Water under the bridge
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: "It was possible that his mind was playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd conjured her up as a familiar face in a crowd of strangers." Precisely 10 months to the day since Fraulein Maria's sudden departure from 53 Aigen, Georg catches a glimpse of golden hair when on an outing in town. What he later discovers sheds light on truths he's not yet ready to confront.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! Me again. I have to admit I've been inspired by a few other stories on here that confront the idea of what would've happened had Maria never returned. This is my take on it – which I believe doesn't step on any toes – but please do tell me if I'm wrong!**

 **In this story, everything happens as it does in canon, except Maria doesn't return and Georg doesn't go after her either.**

 **I'd also like to give a special shout out to Anthony and Lolita Marchesi for the absolutely lovely messages they've sent me about my stories. It means a lot!**

 **Anyway.. enjoy! Or not – as the angsty case may be…**

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Georg turned up the collar of his jacket slightly against the mild wind that seemed to be moving through Salzburg like a restless sea. Though it was early June and there wasn't a cloud in the blue hue of the sky above, there was nevertheless a certain... _disquietude_ in the air that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something stirring below the surface, as though the trees themselves were humming with the rustle of an unspoken riddle, as though the cobbled stones beneath his feet were vibrating with the weight of a secret he wasn't privy to.

Perhaps it was the _nature_ of his visit to town that had him feeling so unsettled. For the last few months he'd been collaborating with the British Royal Navy in response to the rumours of imminent war looming in Europe. For whatever reason, his British associate was in Austria and had requested to meet Georg face to face for the first time since their correspondence began. While it was an odd request - and normally one that Georg would avoid at all costs - Lieutenant Alfred Norden had insisted, and the threat of Nazi surveillance wasn't yet so prominent that Georg would deem the business meeting too risky. The Anschluss was yet to occur after all, despite the fact that a Nazi invasion seemed inevitable. Nevertheless he had voiced his niggling concerns to the Lieutenant, but Norden had brushed aside any lingering worries with a jovial scoff down the phone.

"No one need concern themselves with an innocent luncheon between two acquaintances, Captain," Alfred had chuckled in eloquent English, "bring your wife along and I'll bring my beau. They can busy themselves with feminine chitchat while we discuss more important matters. It'll look like nothing more than a couple of old friends catching up."

While Georg had reluctantly agreed to the luncheon, he'd doubted his wife would want any part of it. _His wife_. Elsa had made it rather clear during their short few months of marriage that she thought it wise that Georg at least _pretend_ to get on with those affiliated with the Nazi party - much to his displeasure - and so he had endeavoured to keep his dealings with the Royal Navy to himself. What his wife didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And in any event, she would most likely have some other social engagement to attend, in which case he could easily slip away for his luncheon unnoticed.

But perhaps he was doing Elsa an injustice. In many aspects of their marriage, she had been a welcome and attentive comfort to him. She was always amicable and charming company, the perfect hostess in fact. She was desirable and provided a warm - though sometimes passive - body whenever he needed a physical escape. She managed to draw him out of his dark moods on the odd occasion that he would retreat to his study to brood about past mistakes. She'd even tried her hardest to become a good mother to the children - a role that didn't quite come naturally to her but that she nevertheless accepted as part of the Baroness Von Trapp title.

It was funny really, how his marriage to Elsa would be considered a happy one by anyone else in his shoes. They'd married in the new year just gone, a lavish affair the likes of which Vienna hadn't seen in years - and then they'd settled back in the villa in Aigen where the children continued to go to school. Elsa had toyed with the prospect of sending the seven of them to boarding school but Georg had put his foot down immediately, a response to which Elsa had begrudgingly acquiesced. At first he was concerned his new wife would grow bored in Aigen, driven bitter by the meddlesome presence of the children and their somewhat cold attitude towards her. But much to Georg's relief, Elsa had decided to keep her house in Vienna even after the wedding, giving her the opportunity to retreat to her salons whenever the quietude of Aigen became a little too suffocating. Sometimes he would go with her for a mindless event or two, other times he would stay home to be with his children. It was an arrangement that worked well for them all - and for all intents and purposes, he _was_ happy, he supposed. Or as content as one could be on the surface, at least.

 _And yet..._ the comforting routine his life had fallen into did nothing to ease the hollow emptiness he sometimes felt in his heart. It did nothing to mask the crushing longing that confronted him in his darkest moments. It did nothing to stop the haunting image of sapphire blue eyes and golden hair from rising unbidden in his mind when his wife lay underneath him...

He often wondered where the owner of those blue eyes was now, 10 months to the day since she'd left him with nought but a scribbled apology and seven heartbroken children. But of course - she was ensconced away in her little abbey, fulfilling God's purpose. Just as she had always dreamed of doing. A simple life. A cloistered life. A _wasted_ life. Other times he would torture himself with the question of whether he ought to have gone after her that night.. whether he ought to have written to her.. demanded an explanation.. insisted on seeing her.. apologised for the part he'd potentially played in her absence... something. _Anything._

But the reverend mother had reassured him during his frantic call to the abbey that fateful evening that Fraulein Maria had indeed returned, that she was safe, and that she didn't wish to speak to anyone. And so with a heavy heart he had respected her wishes, he had kept his distance - until eventually too much time had passed to justify any more calls to the reverend mother. With nothing to go on but Fraulein Maria's cryptic note, he'd had little choice but to accept her words as truth: she had missed the abbey and so she had returned. That was all there was to it. To have questioned her decision, to have meddled in her life any further would have been to act selfishly.

The bleak days that had followed her departure were hazy now in Georg's mind but somewhere along the way he had angrily resolved to snap out of his apathetic mood and set his ship back onto its rightful course. It was on a particularly rainy afternoon, most uncharacteristic of mid-August, that he had made up his mind and marched into the drawing room to find Elsa poring over a magazine. The lashing rain had been pelting against the windows, he remembered - the heavy sound hammering around in his skull as she'd lifted her head and looked up at him with a warm smile.

"Elsa," he'd said somewhat awkwardly, despite his best efforts to the contrary, "do you think it's about time we-?"

He couldn't recall ever finishing his sentence, but within a week their engagement announcement had been placed in the local paper. Somehow he'd expected to feel as though a weight had been lifted, but instead he'd been confronted with a disturbing sense of unease that he'd never quite been able to place since. Either way it hardly mattered now, he reminded himself - he was married and settled. He'd done the right thing by everyone.

Hadn't he?

Glancing at his watch, Georg realised he had at least twenty minutes to spare before his luncheon and so he decided to pop in to the local bakery to pick up some treats for the children - mainly as a distraction from his unwanted thoughts. Settling on some cupcakes, he paid the woman behind the counter and accepted the box with a grateful _'danke_ ' before hurrying out of the shop and joining the busy flow of people heading down Domplatz. Growing impatient and cursing Salzburg's popularity during summertime, he rounded a corner that opened out onto the sunny Residenzplatz square - when suddenly he spotted something near the fountain that made the ground hollow out beneath his feet.

He froze instantly, the box of cupcakes slipping from his numbed fingers. Breathing suddenly became a struggle, shock causing his heart to gallop on an off-beat in his chest. It was possible, he reasoned, that his mind was playing tricks on him.. it wouldn't be the first time since her departure that he'd conjured her up as a familiar face in a crowd of strangers. She was far away after all - on the other side of the square in fact. But there was something about the golden halo of her hair that was painfully familiar to him.

He'd always suspected that if he ever saw her again, she'd be clad in her habit and wimple - a subdued and obedient shadow of her former self. But the woman he could see on the other side of the square was dressed in a light summer dress, her long legs and porcelain skin glowing in the sunlight. He couldn't quite make out her face, the bustling crowd making it difficult to keep sight of her - but a desperate part of him felt bizarrely compelled to find out one way or another whether it really _was_ Fraulein Maria. Before he knew it, before he could talk some sense into himself, his legs were moving of their own accord, carrying him mindlessly forward as he darted through the busy square, struck with equal parts panic and relief every time he lost sight of that golden halo and then spotted it again.

It seemed to take an age to move anywhere, and when she didn't reappear amongst the sea of heads before him, he felt his stomach roil. Frantically he rounded a corner in the direction she'd been walking in, spinning in a circle and scanning the streets for any sign of a familiar face. But whoever the woman had been, she was nowhere to be found. The sudden sense of loss was great, the disappointment overwhelming, and he swore angrily at himself for his foolishness. Of course it hadn't been her.. it just wasn't possible. Surely he was going mad.

It was a minute or two before he managed to gather his composure, but once he did so he realised he'd at least ended up on route to the restaurant where he was supposed to be meeting Lieutenant Norden. Sure enough there the little venue was, on the other side of the street, and he endeavoured to put his stupidity behind him as he made his way to the entrance in a somewhat dark mood.

Stepping inside and twitching his fingers impatiently, he waited at the reservations desk, looking around for a member of staff to come and seat him - and it was at that precise moment that he suddenly felt the world shift on its axis. There, sat alone at one of the tables in the far corner, was Fraulein Maria - and this time there was no mistaking her porcelain face, that glow of hair, those sapphire eyes. If he thought his reaction to seeing her across the square had been overwhelming it was nothing compared to what he felt right there in the middle of the restaurant - his stomach dropping and his heart lifting all at once. On closer inspection, he realised her summer dress was of a light blue hue, much like the dress he'd once secretly adored.. and she'd grown her hair a little, the gentle waves framing her face. It occurred to him momentarily that surely the abbey wouldn't allow such alterations to her appearance.. but there was something else that was different about her too. A confidence in the way she held herself, as though she had matured, become more comfortable in her own skin. And suddenly he found himself inexplicably breathless.

Driven by the sudden and bizarre compulsion to say hello, he took an eager step towards her - only to halt immediately in his tracks when another man he didn't recognise hurried past him and rushed straight to Fraulein Maria's table. The smile that had been pulling at Georg's lips vanished in an instant and he watched, frozen to the spot, as the Fraulein looked up from her menu, her face breaking into a wide smile of recognition before she launched from her seat and wrapped her arms around the man's neck. The embrace was an intimate one, the man's hands grasping her waist as he whispered something in her ear with a grin, evoking a song of laughter from her lips that Georg recognised all too well.

For reasons he didn't dare confront, he suddenly felt as though he'd been punched square in the stomach - and he had to turn away, had to grip the closest piece of furniture to steady himself. So many times he'd thought about seeing her again, thought about how nice it would be to ask how she was faring, to find out whether she was happy with the path she'd chosen - but never in any of the imagined scenarios had she been embracing another man. And though his confusion, his surprise, was jarring, the many questions rattling around in his head like loose stones, he didn't think he could bear to find out the answers. Not yet. Not like this.

Suddenly hellbent on getting as far away from the restaurant as was humanly possible, he hurried back to the reservation desk before the Fraulein spotted him, grabbing the attention of the nearest waiter.

"I have a lunch appointment with a Herr Norden," he confirmed a little too sharply, "but when he arrives will you please tell him there's been a change of plan and I'll meet him at the cafe in the square instead."

 _Why wasn't she in her habit? Why wasn't she at the abbey? What had she been doing since she left? Who was she with? Why had they embraced?_

"Herr Norden?" The waiter repeated with a polite smile, checking his list as Georg fidgeted with unease, "ah yes. He's already arrived sir. Please, follow me."

"Wait! I-" Georg panicked, but the waiter was already moving through the restaurant amidst the sea of tables. Swearing under his breath, dread churning in his stomach, Georg followed helplessly, ducking his head with a scowl in a desperate attempt to avoid being seen by his former governess and the man she had so affectionately greeted. With any luck he would make it to Norden's table, convince the lieutenant to relocate elsewhere, and then get the hell out of there unseen.

But it soon became apparent that he was only ever destined to suffer, for - to his utter horror - the waiter steered him as if in slow motion right into the path of Fraulein Maria and her companion. Cold dread cloaked his body - and it was only when they came to a halt directly at the couple's table that the reality of the situation suddenly struck him, the cruel twists of fate hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

"Herr Norden sir," the waiter addressed the man at the table politely, as Georg set his face in stone, "your acquaintance has arrived."

* * *

 **A/N: I hope I haven't devastated too many of you? I really have no idea where this story is going to go just yet, but that's half the fun. I'll try to update as regularly as I can, despite my lack of direction!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews so far. They encourage my fingers to type faster and give you speedy updates!**

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 _"Herr Norden sir," the waiter addressed the man at the table politely, as Georg set his face in stone, "your acquaintance has arrived."_

Two pairs of eyes instantly looked up from the table to greet the new arrival, but the reactions of their owners couldn't have been more different. _He_ smiled warmly, launching to his feet and grasping Georg's hand in an strong and enthusiastic shake. _She_ , on the other hand, dropped her menu with a deafening thud against the table top, her face falling as the blood drained from her cheeks. Their eyes met for only a moment, before the tension became too thick for Georg to bear and he had to shift his gaze to the floor, to the tabletop, to the ceiling - _anywhere_ but at her.

"Captain Von Trapp!" Norden greeted in broken German, still grasping Georg's hand while remaining entirely oblivious to the dangerous shift in the atmosphere, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last!"

Georg forced a smile and kept his eyes fixed on the lieutenant for fear of what he might have to confront if he looked at the table's other occupant again. But nevertheless, he hadn't missed her sharp intake of breath, nor the fleeting panic in her expression when she'd first recognised him.

"The pleasure is all mine Lieutenant, I assure you," he replied gruffly, grappling a stronghold on his remaining composure.

"Come, come! Take a seat!" Norden gestured to the table as he settled back into his own chair, "your wife couldn't make it?"

"Er.. no," Georg replied awkwardly, acutely aware of Fraulein Maria stiffening like a board beside him. Whether it was due to his sudden proximity or the mention of Elsa, he couldn't be sure.

"I'm afraid she had another obligation she couldn't get out of. Apologies, I should've mentioned it."

"Ah, well not to worry!" Norden gave a wave of his hand, before turning to the fraulein, "I'm sure you'll forgive two naval men our tedious military talk over lunch, won't you Maria darling?"

 _Darling?_

Fraulein Maria jumped like a startled lamb at being addressed and opened her mouth to speak, though no words came. The air of confidence that had surrounded her when Georg had first laid eyes on her was nowhere to be seen now, it seemed. Instead she looked like a lost child, much like Gretl after a nightmare. Or a thunderstorm.

"Oh forgive me, I haven't yet introduced you!" Norden exclaimed suddenly, reaching for the fraulein's hand across the table with a warm smile, as Georg squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, "Captain, this is my significant other, Maria Rainer. Maria, this is Captain Von Trapp - a navy acquaintance of mine."

So she had left the Sisters, Georg thought bitterly. That much was obvious by now. And yet.. she had fled the villa because she'd missed her life at the abbey too much? In all the moments that he'd second guessed himself since her departure, it had been _that_ particular scrap of information - her need to serve God - that had allowed him to assign conviction to the decisions he'd made. With that small but extremely significant detail now entirely contradicted, everything he'd ever told himself about that fateful night was completely thrown into question. It'd had _nothing_ to do with God - he knew that now. Perhaps he'd always known it, on some level. Deep down. And yet, he'd never quite allowed himself to believe it.

 _What fools they'd both been_.

"It's a pleasure to meet you fraulein," he said somewhat coldly with a curt nod, his eyes fixed somewhere past her left shoulder. The bewilderment on her face was only fleeting, replaced quickly by shame as she lowered her gaze to the tablecloth and muttered her own unintelligible greeting. Before he could stop himself, he chanced a glance at her trembling hands, his stomach turning over and a puzzling lump forming in his throat. He could see no engagement ring... there was that at least.

"It's a rarity indeed when Maria is so quiet Captain!" Norden chuckled, reaching for the fraulein's hand again and patting it affectionately, "I dare say she's caught wind of your notorious reputation in these parts!"

Georg didn't miss the colour tingeing Fraulein Maria's cheeks as she shrank even further into herself. It seemed she hadn't told her beau about her summer spent at the Von Trapp villa. How much more had she omitted from her past, he wondered.

"My reputation is nought but glorified tales, I can assure you," he smiled meekly, but Norden only scoffed.

"You're Austria's greatest naval hero!" He declared triumphantly, "when I first met Maria and learned she was from Salzburg I regaled her with stories of naval legends and naturally your name was mentioned. I was surprised she didn't know more in fact, given that she hails from these parts! Still - when Maria agreed to show me the delights of Austria I just knew it made sense to finally make your acquaintance."

 _If they hadn't met in Salzburg just where in the hell_ had _they met?_

"You flatter me, lieutenant," Georg humoured, suddenly rather parched for a stiff drink and looking hopefully towards the bar.

"Ah!" Norden grinned, following Georg's eye line, "let me guess. A man like you must have a taste for scotch on the rocks? Or perhaps a whiskey?"

"A whiskey.. thank you. But I'll get it-"

"Nonsense Captain," Norden insisted, guiding Georg back down into his seat with a friendly hand on his shoulder, "I insisted on this luncheon and so I shall get the first round in! Maria darling, the usual?"

 _The usual? So she drank now too?_

"Yes.. thank you," the fraulein replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Coming right up!" And then, much to Georg's dismay, before he could protest, Norden turned on his heel in the direction of the bar and was gone, leaving the two of them alone.

The silence left behind by his sudden departure was suffocating, crushing - and interminable seconds ticked by with neither of them able to lift their eyes from the tablecloth. Georg felt like the breath was being siphoned from his lungs. The only sound came from his impatient fingertips drumming awkwardly against the wood, until the tension became so excruciating that he just had to say something.

"So.." he stated, his mouth set in a thin line, "you look well."

"T-thank you.." she murmured quietly, before the thick silence fell upon the table again.

He watched for agonisingly long seconds as she twisted her hands in her lap fretfully, before she suddenly raised her head and blurted out in that endearingly earnest way he still remembered, "how are the children?"

The words tumbled from her lips with such urgency, such open sincerity, that he might've been fooled into thinking she still cared.

"They're getting along just fine, thank you."

"And.. and you?" She asked softly, her guileless eyes studying him with.. was it sadness? Whatever it was, he didn't think he could bear it.

"Magnificent," he retorted dryly, "Though a little surprised, I have to admit. I had no idea the noviciate had so thoroughly _slackened_ its rules..." he hadn't quite intended to sound so harsh, so accusatory - but nevertheless his sarcasm was biting. So much so in fact, that her eyes widened in bewilderment, her cheeks burning darker in response to his barb - and when she finally spoke again her trembling voice was laced not with politeness but with pleading remorse.

"Captain, I-"

"Left the abbey?" he interrupted with mock gaiety and a nonchalant lift of the brow, "yes, I _guessed_ as much," his eyes shifted and narrowed on Norden standing at the bar, before burning into her face once again, "Call it sailor's intuition..."

She bowed her head again, her distress evident - and he wondered for a moment whether she might burst into tears. He was behaving like a petulant child, he knew - she most likely didn't deserve his contempt. But he couldn't quite bring himself to have mercy. Not just yet. Not when he so desperately needed answers.

"Though I must confess to further confusion, if you'll pardon my ignorance," he continued when she didn't respond, his casual irony cutting, "if my memory serves me correctly, you left us in the dead of night because you couldn't bear to be _parted_ from said abbey?"

"Captain.. _please_ -"

"My question-" he cut in, "-and I'm sure you'll permit me such intrusiveness, fraulein - is _why_?"

"Why?" She breathed, her blue eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Yes. Why." He repeated, all sarcasm suddenly stripped from his tone as his mask slipped, the words coming out on a strangled whisper, "the _children_.. they were... we _all_ were... " he cursed in desperate frustration, his tapping fingers stilling their movements and closing into a fist on the table top, "Why in _God's name_ did you leave if it wasn't because -"

"Here we are!" came Norden's jovial voice from somewhere behind them, "A whiskey on the rocks and a white wine spritzer!"

He plonked the drinks down on the table and raised an eyebrow in surprise when both of his lunch acquaintances grabbed hastily at their glasses, taking larger gulps than would normally be deemed appropriate in public. Shrugging in good-humour, he took a seat with his own glass of scotch and picked up a menu.

"What do you say to ordering some food Captain, and then we can discuss more important matters?"

Georg turned to the lieutenant, though he hardly registered a word that the man had uttered. Norden was handsome, he supposed begrudgingly as he studied him from across the table - with a head of thick dark hair and a square jaw, he was a man that _some_ women might find appealing. He was tall. Sophisticated. Annoyingly young and infuriatingly charming. But apart from that, Georg couldn't see what all the fuss was about. _Boring,_ he decided firmly. The lieutenant was boring. He would surely stifle such a unique and free-spirited-

"Captain?" Norden frowned.

"Yes.. right. Lunch." Georg agreed, hastily taking refuge behind a menu and trying to make sense of the words on the page. But when the food finally arrived some time later it tasted like ash in his mouth, and the rest of the luncheon passed in an agonising blur of small talk and naval discussion - none of which he remembered afterwards.

Fraulein Maria spoke only when spoken to and spent the majority of the time pushing untouched food around her plate, her face pale. Much to his chagrin, Georg's anger gradually gave way to melancholy with every glance he cast in her direction, and he eventually began to regret the way he'd spoken to her. What was she guilty of, after all, besides naivety and fear? With all his years of worldly experience, it ought to have been _him_ who'd known better all those months ago. She hadn't deserved his disdain back then and she no more deserved it now - but shock and dismay had led him to behave badly. Norden's constant presence however, meant that he could find no opportunity to apologise, nor ask further questions. Instead he would have to settle for slowly being driven to madness by the tortured look in her eyes.

By the time he was finally free to take his leave, Georg was thoroughly dejected and altogether ashamed of himself. In fact, he could do little else than shake Norden's hand, nodding awkwardly in fraulein Maria's direction and hoping that his eyes at least were kind.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, fraulein," he murmured remorsefully, allowing his eyes to linger on her face for only a moment longer before turning on his heels and leaving the restaurant, the agony in her parting expression burned permanently into his memory.

* * *

Later that evening Georg locked himself in his study away from his wife and children, and drank more whiskey than he remembered drinking in a very long time. Inebriated and angry, he finally stumbled up to bed long after midnight to find Elsa awake and waiting for him. He said nothing, only observing her clumsily from the doorway as the room spun around him. She was adorned in her silk nightgown by the window, the material clinging to her figure like a second skin - and her blond coiffure was piled artificially high on top of her head, exposing the skin of her throat. The scent of her sickly perfume only served to further dull his senses.

"Georg..?" She questioned, a look of concern marring her brow.

But all he could see was blue eyes and golden hair. All he could hear was a sweet, familiar voice from times past caressing his name like a prayer. And the vision was so real, so raw, so consuming in his alcohol-addled mind - that uninhibited lust and longing sparked like lightning through his numbed veins, until he could take it no longer, and he was charging across the room, gathering his breathless wife into his arms.

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 **A/N: please do let me know if you can bear more, or if I'm wasting my time! I don't know who I feel more sorry for in this chapter? Let's have a vote! Ha**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: slightly explicit content in this chapter – just a warning! Enjoy and thank you for your reviews!**

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Maria wasn't used to the grand and glorious luxury of five-star hotels, but when Alfred had insisted upon the two of them staying at the Goldener Hirsch during his visit to Salzburg, she'd been too polite to refuse him. They were staying in separate rooms of course, despite Alfred's teasing hints to the contrary - and she was grateful to him for respecting her wishes. They were courting yes, but she had no intention of jumping the gun, no matter how lovely his kisses sometimes made her feel. In truth, she hadn't had much choice in the matter anyway - there was nowhere else for her to go. It wasn't as though she could request a bed at the abbey of all places, no matter how close she still was with the reverend mother. Luckily though, Alfred was a perfect gentleman, and the Goldener Hirsch was a magnificent venue.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Alfred observed her playfully as he sank back into the cushions of the plush sofa next to her. The drinks lounge of the Goldener was his favourite place to unwind at the end of a long day, and Maria had to admit she loved it too, mostly for the relaxing ambience, the friendly staff and - perhaps most importantly - the gorgeous grand piano that sat in the far corner of the room. She didn't play the instrument well, but other guests with a talent for the keys would often take to the bench, filling the elegant room with all manner of wonderful melodies.

"I was just thinking about how long it's been since I was last in Salzburg.." she replied with a wistful smile, "I didn't realise just how much I missed it."

It wasn't exactly a lie, she reasoned with herself. She _had_ been thinking about the last time she was in Salzburg - though more specifically, about seven mischievous children and their formidable father. Her stomach lurched once again at the memory of the luncheon earlier that day and the cold horror that had cloaked her body upon seeing him again. It had been almost too painful for her to endure, but she'd managed to grapple a stronghold on her composure just long enough to get through the meal with her dignity intact. Only once she was safely ensconced in her hotel room a few hours later had she allowed the desperate tears to flow freely.

Ten months ago - to the day, in fact - she'd vowed to leave the memory of captain Von Trapp behind her. And yet just one glimpse of him had brought it all rushing back. The intricate steps of the Laendler were as vivid in her memory now as if they had happened yesterday - the flow of music, the lightness of her spirit, the pounding of her heart, and then.. the look in his eyes...

But no - it didn't bear thinking about. And it hardly mattered now anyway. The Baroness had been right, he _had_ gotten over it soon enough - their engagement announcement in the paper shortly after had been proof enough of that. The reminder however, did little to soften the haunting memory of the captain's face when he'd first recognised her at the restaurant. The look he'd given her! So tortured, so anguished, so angry. It'd filled her with incomprehensible guilt and shame - as though she was singlehandedly responsible for an unforgivable betrayal. But she _was_ responsible, wasn't she? She'd left his vulnerable children in the dead of night with nought but a note, never to be seen again. No wonder he could barely stand the sight of her...

"Well I do hope you aren't thinking of returning to Austria permanently and leaving me to go back to London all on my lonesome!" Alfred chirped, sipping on a gin and tonic devilishly.

She rewarded him with a genuine smile then, despite the torment in her heart, and he took it as an invitation to lift a hand to her face and caress the length of one cheek. She stiffened against his touch only slightly, but it was enough for him to notice her discomfort.

"Are you alright darling?" He frowned, letting his arm drop back to his side, "you seem a little... out of sorts."

Maria recovered quickly, plastering a smile back on her face and reaching for her own drink, "I'm absolutely fine Alfred," she patted his hand affectionately. He really was a good man.

"Honestly. I'm just fine."

* * *

Later that evening Maria sat on the end of the plush bed in her hotel room, staring at the blank piece of writing paper and pen she'd placed atop the vanity some time earlier. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, twisting her hands restlessly in her lap, heart pounding rhythmically in her chest - but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she'd done something to ease the guilt gnawing away at her insides.

He deserved an explanation. They _all_ did. Even if it was ten months too late...

It was true that she'd fled the Von Trapp villa selfishly through fear and confusion that night - but she'd also done it to spare him further grievance. The Lord had had other plans for Captain Von Trapp in the form of Baroness Shraeder, and Maria wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she'd forsaken God's errand - the errand of preparing the children for a new mother. That, and she hadn't been able to bear the humiliation of admitting she was in love with a man who couldn't truly love her in return.

She wasn't naive enough to deny that there had been _something_ happening between them all those months ago - something electric. It hadn't been entirely one-sided, she knew that deep down. The way they had sometimes looked at each other, the way he had held her in his arms - it had all been proof enough of something powerful stirring beneath the surface. But it had been _wrong_ \- nothing good could ever have come of it. There had no longer been a place for her at 53 Aigen after that - and neither had there been one at the abbey. And so she had left it all behind. For a new start. A new life. The details of which she was about to share with the last person on earth she thought she'd ever be telling her story to.

Launching from the bed before she lost her nerve entirely, Maria grabbed the pen from atop the vanity and - much like she had done all those months ago - she sat down, and began to write a letter.

* * *

It was with a particularly foggy head and no clothing that Georg woke up the following morning, the details of the night before somewhat hazy in his mind. If he didn't know any better, he'd have guessed he was twenty years younger again, nursing a hangover in a stranger's bed with little memory of the evening prior. But this time he was in his _own_ bed - and he _did_ remember certain things. He remembered blue eyes, a soft familiar voice, golden hair, intense pleasure... but a silk nightgown? And sickly perfume?

Quite without warning, he felt the bed shift as someone stirred to life beside him.

"Well good morning, Georg darling!" It was Elsa, sitting up in bed and patting her still perfect coiffure, looking rather pleased with herself, "I must admit I'm all out of sorts... I have absolutely no idea what came over you last night!"

Suddenly the day before came screaming back to him through the pounding in his head - the luncheon with Norden, the confrontation with Fraulein Maria, the copious amounts of whiskey afterwards.. and then- _oh God._

"I apologise Elsa, I... I drank a little too much before coming to bed. Forgive me."

Lovemaking with Elsa had always been pleasant but somewhat... restrained throughout their marriage - much like everything else about her. It wasn't that Georg didn't enjoy being in bed with his wife, it was just that by her very nature she portrayed an unspoken need for grace, courtesy, decorum, ceremony - even in their most intimate moments. In other words, he never truly felt like he could relinquish control over the passions of his body.

But last night - _oh_ last night he'd thrown caution to the wind and ravished her without thought or constraint. And suddenly he felt self-conscious, as though he'd revealed a part of himself to her that he'd endeavoured to keep hidden. He'd torn the nightgown from her body, he remembered now - he'd pinned her against the wall, he'd tasted every inch of her, he'd anchored her to the mattress with the rhythmic thrust of his hips. He'd channeled all of his frustration at life into the place they'd been joined. And all the while he'd been wishing hopelessly that she was more than a passive participant.

"Well I know it's been a little while since we... " Elsa simpered, placing a manicured hand on his forearm, "but honestly darling, you were a man possessed!"

Possessed indeed. Possessed by blue eyes and golden hair, he thought bitterly. And as wretched as he felt for his abhorrent behaviour, he couldn't deny that the pleasure had been more intense than he remembered experiencing in a very long time. Of that at least, he was certain.

"I'm going to take a shower," he grumbled, throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. Though he was fully naked, Elsa was already adorned in another nightgown - one that wasn't torn - and by the looks of her face, she'd already applied some make up before he'd awoken. For a reason he couldn't quite fathom, the realisation saddened him.

Stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, he sidled up to the mirror and gripped the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection. He felt sick and he looked haggard - but it was nothing less than he deserved. Not after he'd so recklessly relinquished all self-control. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd thought of _her_ when he ought not to - but whenever it'd happened previously he'd been able to nip it in the bud and stifle his overactive imagination. Last night however, he hadn't even tried. He hadn't wanted to. Instead he'd given in to his intoxicated vision.

It was just that it had all seemed so _real_ at the time - as though she really had been there with him. Skin to skin. Joined as one. He was so sure it was _her_ lips he'd kissed, _her_ breasts he'd caressed, _her_ thighs he'd nestled between, _her_ eyes he'd lost himself in when he'd eventually come apart..

"Pull yourself together," he growled at the man in the mirror, but much to his dismay, his body had other ideas. It appeared his behaviour the previous night had awoken a long dormant need that had yet to be fully satisfied. Cursing under his breath and ignoring his suddenly heavy arousal, he stepped under the spray of the shower, allowing the heat of the water to sooth his aching muscles. It wouldn't do to carry on this way, he knew. It would be utterly ridiculous to allow his run-in with Fraulein Maria to affect him so significantly. He was happy now, settled with a family. And she was happy too, by the looks of things - she had her damned lieutenant.

But would Norden love her the way she deserved, he wondered, as he shook his hair under the water stream. Would he be capable of eliciting the fierce passions that Georg knew she harboured within? She could love a man so completely, could drive him to the brink of madness if she was only given the chance. And her body and mind were capable of an ecstasy she most likely hadn't even experienced yet. An ecstasy he'd once longed to bestow upon her...

Impulsively, his hand moved of its own accord and followed the stream of water cascading down his body, until his soap-lathered fist closed around his aching arousal. Immediately his eyes fluttered closed against the slick sensation and he let out a whimper of pleasure. It felt good. _Too_ good. And when his hand began to move in a steady rhythm against himself, it took all the willpower he possessed to halt his actions, spin round on the spot and turn the water temperate down - until the cold spray shocked his skin, forcing his mutinous body to relent.

 _Enough!_ He resolved, angrily, slapping an open palm against the tiles, breathing hard. _Enough of this madness._

* * *

"Captain, sir?" Frau Schmidt approached some time later when the family were sitting down to lunch, "a letter has arrived for you."

"I thought all the post came this morning, Frau Schmidt?" Elsa interjected, a little too haughtily for Georg's liking.

"It did Baroness," Frau Schmidt smiled sweetly, "this letter was delivered just now by bicycle. By a young man from one of the hotels in town."

"What a shame it wasn't a _telegram_ , ey Leisl?" Louisa giggled, glancing devilishly at her blushing sister before a sharp look from her father silenced her.

"A hotel, Georg?" Elsa needled as soon as Frau Schmidt had excused herself from the room.

He gave a bored shrug, taking a sip of his coffee, "It must be from an old acquaintance who just happens to be visiting the area."

But then he flipped the letter over, saw the scrawl of the handwritten address, and suddenly the coffee burned like acid in his throat. _He knew that handwriting._ He had seen it multiple times on the occasions that he would join the children in their lessons all those months ago, the gentle flick and feminine swirl of the letters commending or correcting their morning's work. He had often caught glimpses of it in her scrapbooks and journals, whenever he used to discover her sitting under a tree by the lake with a moment to herself, privately scribbling away with so much enthusiasm that he'd often ached to read whatever it was she couldn't quite keep locked inside. It was the same scrawl that was etched into the note she'd left behind the night of the party, the very same note that he still kept hidden away in the top drawer of his desk...

Yes. He knew that handwriting all too well.

* * *

 **A/N: as always your thoughts keep me going!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Don't hate me!**

* * *

 _Yes. He knew that handwriting all too well._

"Excuse me Elsa, children.." Georg muttered distractedly as he rose from his seat, never taking his eyes off the letter clasped in his hand. It occurred to him briefly that perhaps he was drawing a little too much attention to himself by leaving the table before lunch was over. In fact he could feel his wife's eyes burning into the back of his head as he left the room, and he knew he would probably have to endure her questions later. But in truth, he didn't think he could wait a moment longer before finding out the contents of the envelope etched with that familiar scrawl.

Rounding a corner, crossing the great hall and finally taking refuge in his study, he closed the door behind him and marched across the room, sinking into the leather chair at his desk. Much to his frustration, his heart began a bizarre gallop in his chest and he could do little else than stare at the envelope between his fingers for interminable seconds, suddenly overcome with apprehension.

What could she possibly have to say to him, after all this time? She'd looked absolutely mortified by his presence at the luncheon - as though she'd do anything to never have to face him again. And yet he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the letter was from her. An awkward lump forming in his throat, he reached slowly for the top drawer of his desk, opened it, and took out the only other letter he'd ever received from Fraulein Maria. The page was creased, as though it'd been read many times - and Georg didn't need to scour the contents to remember word for word what it said. He knew it all by heart..

 _What are you doing!_ He cursed himself suddenly for his ridiculous behaviour, thrusting the note back in the top drawer impatiently. Why was he allowing himself to become so affected? He thought that time might've healed old wounds, that the passing months might've allowed him to forget... but he ought to have known better.

Without further hesitation, he ripped into the sealed envelope and unfolded the paper within, trying to ignore the thundering of his pulse as he began to read.

 _Dear Captain,_

 _I know that I may be the last person on earth you wish to hear from at the present moment. I certainly wouldn't fault you for such sentiments - it would be no less than I deserve. But I beg of you not to think upon me too harshly, for you must know that I have never forgiven myself for leaving your family without a proper farewell._

 _Not a day goes by when I don't think of my time at 53 Aigen. Every evening I pray for the children and wonder how they are all faring. Whether Gretl still loves bunny rabbits and Kurt still eats you out of house and home. Whether Louisa still has a penchant for insects and Friedrich for military history. Whether Brigitta is still buried in her books and Marta still adores pink. Whether Liesl is enjoying being seventeen going on eighteen. And, of course, whether you still sing with them all from time to time._

 _Please know sir, that my departure had absolutely nothing to do with the children. They were wonderful charges from the moment I met them, despite one or two initial hiccups in the very beginning -_

The pine cone, Georg remembered with a wistful chuckle, despite himself.

 _\- and they are never too far from my thoughts._

 _I understand it must've been a shock for you to see me again under such circumstances. I admit myself that you were the last person I expected to walk through the door when Alfred told me we'd be meeting an acquaintance of his. If I had known, I would perhaps have spared us both the discomfort and made myself scarce._

 _It may be ten months overdue, Captain, but I owe you an apology and an explanation. I never intended to cause any anguish and it fills me with remorse to know that I have done exactly that. It is with this notion in mind that I ask you to please join me in the lounge of The Goldener on Tuesday afternoon at 6pm, so that I might have the opportunity to explain myself, once and for all._

 _Yours faithfully,_

 _Maria R._

Georg stared at the signature until his eyes blurred, slumping back against the leather chair and running a hand over his jaw. The bizarre lump in his throat had intensified and he felt a sudden and alarming surge of longing that he didn't dare confront.

He had to admit that despite it all, he was impressed by her bravery. The lost and scared young woman who'd fled his home the previous year wouldn't have had the nerve to see him again, let alone be the one to demand it - and he was forced to consider once more just how much she'd matured since her departure. She'd always been bold, courageous, headstrong and wilful - their argument by the lake and her fierce defence of her faith had demonstrated a confidence beyond her years that he'd later admired. But, just as he'd observed at the restaurant, he could detect a new self-assurance in the words marked on the page, an awareness and poise that wasn't there before. And he knew now, that if he agreed to her request, they would be meeting not as captain and governess, not as employer and employee, but as equals.

It would be an uncomfortable situation, he knew - he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear what had come to pass since her flight from 53 Aigen, nor the part that lieutenant Norden had played in her life thus far. But he also knew that he'd drive himself to madness if he didn't get answers. And if he was honest with himself, he needed to express his own regret for speaking to her the way he had at the restaurant.

He would go, he decided firmly. He would hear what she had to say, he would say his own piece, and then perhaps he would finally be rid of the uneasy feeling that had tormented him since the previous summer. The uneasy feeling that he still couldn't quite put his finger on.

* * *

It was with a guilty conscience that Maria kissed Alfred goodbye on Tuesday evening in the foyer of the Goldener, wishing him a pleasant dinner and promising that she would join him for a drink later in the hotel's lounge. He was due to meet another British officer who was in the area on business and Maria had been relieved that the invitation hadn't been extended to wives and partners. It wasn't that she didn't like attending Alfred's social obligations - it was just that his absence would most definitely make things easier when it came to her meeting with the Captain. She despised lying, especially to Alfred - but she hadn't told him about her plans to meet with his naval associate. How could she even begin to explain the circumstances to him? She didn't even understand them herself.

By the time the grandfather clock in the hotel's lounge pointed to 5.55pm, Maria was settled at a table in the far corner by the window. Decidedly nervous but altogether composed, her eyes remained glued to the doorway, waiting for a man she knew could never be late for anything. And then sure enough, just as the clock struck 6pm, there he was. Tall, arresting, larger than life in a dark navy suit. _Devastating,_ she had to admit. He hadn't spotted her yet, and she was glad for it - for suddenly she was undeniably short of breath.

She watched him as his eyes scanned the room, a small frown marring his brow, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught sight of her. Willing her heart to stop hammering, she permitted herself the small transgression of admiring him from afar, before he would inevitably notice her gaze. She'd been too shocked at the luncheon to really take the opportunity to study him, and now that she did, she noticed he hadn't changed, not one bit...

Suddenly, and quite without warning, his eyes locked with hers across the room and the remaining oxygen was instantly knocked from her lungs. He didn't move, only gazed at her for interminable seconds, his eyes softening until she felt as though she was the only person in the room. Her first instinct was to look away before he caught her in an unguarded moment, but he held her gaze mercilessly, to the point that she was entirely unable to avert her eyes. She was certain he'd seen her thoughts written on her face, for she hadn't had time to mask them - and she felt suddenly angry that he still had the power to fluster her.

 _No!_ She thought determinedly, she would never allow him to see just how much he had once affected her. She would get through this talk with her dignity still intact. Taking a deep breath, she broke the unbearable tension with an awkward wave. Her acknowledgment of his arrival seemed to awaken him from some sort of trance - and his eyes hardened once again before he began to move across the room towards her.

Georg hadn't meant to stare, but he also hadn't expected her to look so... so... He couldn't deny it. She looked radiant. It was that air of confidence again, that aura about her that seemed to fill a room. And suddenly his chest ached, his throat tightened, his fingers twitched with unrelenting anxiety.

"Good evening Captain," she greeted him a little breathlessly as he pulled out a chair and settled into it.

"Good evening.."

It took almighty strength, but he forced himself to look at her. Not _past_ her, not _through_ her, but _at_ her - and he was impressed and altogether floored to discover that instead of cowering away from him, she was looking him straight in the eye in return, her head held high. She was _breathtaking._

"So..." he cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping to at least come across as amiable this time around, "the Goldener? It must make a change from your postulant's cell."

She smiled fondly, as though lost in pleasant memories, and his chest constricted.

"Yes," she laughed, "it _does_ seem another lifetime ago now! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me at such short notice."

"Of course.." he muttered, before silence enveloped them again.

"I… I asked you here because I thought there were some things I ought to explain," she reasoned, "For the children's sake."

"Yes, the children..."

When he said little else - only watched her expectantly - she floundered a little under his scrutiny, but soon recovered again, "W-well I suppose I'd better start at the very beginning."

"A very good place to start..." he quipped with a meek smile, and she rewarded him with another radiant one in return. And then, all he could do was listen, his stomach churning, as she took a deep breath and offered him her story.

"I made the decision to leave Nonnberg Abbey last September, shortly after returning. I think everybody knew that I wasn't made for the noviciate - that is, everybody except me! The Reverend Mother, kind as she is, agreed to find a new position for me - and she did. An opportunity came up in London for another governess position and I took it without hesitation. For the first time, I travelled out of Austria and took a ferry from Calais to Dover - oh _captain,_ I remember thinking it was no wonder you love the sea so much! The views of the open water from the deck were just magnificent.."

He could just picture her now, stood at the bough of a ship, watching the movement of the waves below her with open fascination. The image soothed him, filling him with affection.

"When I arrived in London to take up my post, I became responsible for two wonderful children, Jane and Michael Banks," she continued, "Though their father wasn't quite so wonderful - a haughty banker from the city who couldn't see past the end of his own nose."

The similarities were almost too comical, Georg had to admit. Had she won the hearts of this family as well? She hadn't mentioned a Mrs Banks... but then of course, there was the lieutenant.

"It was some time in mid-autumn when I met Alfred Norden. We would run into each other at the same coffee shop from time to time and we eventually became better acquainted. He knows all about my time at the abbey, but not... "

She trailed off hopelessly then, the colour draining a little from her face, and she averted her eyes for the first time since their conversation began.

 _Why?_ Georg wondered desperately. _Why had she omitted that part of her past? The part that involved him?_

She took another shaky breath and continued before he had the chance to ask.

"My post at the Banks' came to an end earlier this month and I agreed to show Alfred around Salzburg. He's never been before, and I suppose he wanted to see more of where I come from. We're here for just a few weeks and-"

"It's serious then..." Georg interjected before he could stop himself. The resulting surprise in her eyes was only fleeting but it was enough for him to know that the personal question had thrown her. He had no business asking it, he knew. Nevertheless, much to his dismay, she nodded.

"He's a good man, captain," she smiled warmly, "You'll like working with him very much.."

 _But do you love him?!_ He wanted to scream. _Do you blush in his arms when you dance? Does he render you breathless when you look at each other?_ But instead he said, "I wish you every happiness, Fraulein."

Her shoulders seemed to sag with relief.

"Thank you Captain. Truly."

The silence that followed was far less traumatic than it had been at the luncheon, but the mood between them was still somewhat strained with the lingering awareness of words left unspoken. He studied her openly from across the table, his eyes moving over her expressive face - no longer caring whether he was being transparent. And as the seconds ticked by, neither of them willing or able to look away from one another, Georg felt the atmosphere thicken with something dangerous and familiar. Could she feel it too, he wondered - could she feel the electricity?

"You left without.. saying goodbye.." he murmured wistfully, as though to himself, "even to the children.."

The sudden anguish in her eyes was irrefutable.

"It was wrong of me, forgive me.."

 _Forgive her? He would forgive her anything._

"Why did you?"

She stiffened at the question, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've told me what you've done since leaving," he said softly, as though coaxing a startled lamb, "but not why you left in the first place. Your note said you missed the abb-"

"Please don't ask me," she interrupted suddenly, her face etched with torment and her voice shaking.

"But-"

" _Please,_ Captain.."

And it was in that moment that he suddenly realised. _He didn't have to ask her_. The look she was sharing with him told him everything he'd ever needed to know - an agonised look of longing and heartache that was so transparent, so beautifully earnest, that it lay bare the secrets of her heart for him to see. She had left because of _him._ And suddenly it was so painfully obvious, so startling clear, so tragically bittersweet, that the truth hit him like a torpedo to the chest.

At some point during the previous summer, they had _fallen in love._

The realisation ought to have shocked him, but as it was he felt only a deep and empty despair. He'd always known, deep down, that he had wanted her, that he had needed her - that they had needed _each other_. And yet he'd used her vocation as an excuse to do nothing. Would he have acted differently, he wondered, if he'd known about her departure from Nonnberg? He liked to think that he might've done. Somehow. But the past could not be rewritten. It was too late. And he only had himself to blame.

"The children have missed you terribly, you know.." his voice cracked unexpectedly under the strain, and he cleared his throat to mask the vulnerable sound. If she noticed his sudden anguish she didn't show it.

"I've missed them too," she smiled sadly, "Have they been behaving themselves?"

He gave a careless shrug, "As well as can be expected of seven children with a penchant for toads and snakes..."

She laughed then, a joyous genuine sound that warmed him from the inside - and before long they were reminiscing nostalgically about the children's various foibles the previous summer. Despite the enjoyable topic of conversation though, Georg grew more desolate with every word exchanged. She had cared so much for his family and he had taken her entirely for granted. But she was happy now with someone else, someone who cared for her, someone who hadn't hesitated in making her feel special. And as crestfallen as it made him feel - as much of a mess as he'd made of things - he was genuinely glad that she was happy. All he'd ever truly wanted was her happiness.

It wasn't until the clock read 7.30pm that Georg realised just how long they'd been sat there, talking of everything and nothing all at once. An aristocratic upbringing had taught him how to veil his emotions with effective precision, and he played the part of polite but detached acquaintance remarkably well. Inside though, his heart was breaking - and he wasn't sure how much longer he could endure her presence without making his feelings known. He needed to escape...

"You know, I really ought to be getting back," he concluded gravely with a glance at his watch, "the children will never forgive me if I'm late for dinner."

Momentary disappointment flitted across her face, but it disappeared so quickly that he wondered if he'd simply imagined it.

"I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me this evening," he forced a smile, rising from his chair and extending his hand for her to shake. A truce. She didn't immediately take it, instead hesitating as though she had something she wanted to say. But whatever it was, she must've thought better of it - for she only smiled warmly in return before placing her hand in his.

It was the first time they'd ever touched skin to skin, he realised - and the effect on his emotional state was immediate, shocking, devastating. So much so that after a few seconds he wrenched his hand away as though he'd been burned. He felt, rather than heard her sharp intake of breath, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not without taking her into his arms.

"Take care, Fraulein."

* * *

 **A/N: ohhhh despair! And did you like my cheeky Mary Poppins reference? Again, who do you feel more sorry for in this chapter? I'd love to know your thoughts!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: this one is very much a filler chapter but I promise you the good stuff is coming! I'm going for a slow build-up of tension so hopefully I'm achieving that. Thank you so much for your reviews so far, they really mean a lot.**

* * *

Maria lifted her face to the sun and let the warm rays bathe her skin as she looked out over the river Salzach. It was one of her favourite spots in Salzburg, save perhaps for her mountain - and for the first time that day she rather wished she could enjoy it in solitude. The truth was, she didn't quite feel herself, and she longed for a moment alone so she could gather her thoughts. But as it was, Alfred was with her, and she felt his arm tighten instinctively around her waist when she stopped to enjoy the view.

"It really is lovely here Maria," He confessed, his fedora pulled low on his brow giving him a roguish appeal, "however did you leave it?"

 _Because I couldn't bear to face what I was leaving behind,_ she confessed to herself - but instead she responded with a light shrug, "it was just... time for a change, I suppose!"

"An adventure?" He mused.

"Something like that!"

"Well I'm awfully glad for it," he laughed, "else I might never have met you!"

She rewarded him with a genuine smile then and his eyes lingered on her face with a particular glimmer that she was only just beginning to recognise as desire. Before she could resist him, he was cupping a warm palm against her cheek, moving closer, and-

"Alfred, I -"

"Shh. There's no one around darling.." came his low murmur, and then his lips brushed slowly against her own. It was... well it was _wonderful_ really. Warm, affectionate, tender - causing butterflies to flutter delicately low in her stomach. He lingered for only a few seconds longer than propriety allowed and yet it made her feel secure, sheltered, wanted. No one had ever made her feel quite so _safe_ before, and the thought was a comforting one. When he finally pulled away his eyes were dark with mischief and a little smirk pulled at his lips, before he gave a warm chuckle that served to break the moment between them.

"Say... " he declared proudly, taking her by the waist again, "What do you think of my hosting a dinner party at the Goldener while I'm here? Just a few friends I've made in the area, some colleagues from England who are out here too - that sort of thing?"

"A party?"

"Well, more like an intimate gathering, since I really have very few friends here!" he laughed, "What do you say Maria, would you like to be my guest of honour?"

"Oh I don't know, Alfred," she sighed, "I'll be the most inelegant guest of honour you've ever escorted! I'll most likely drop the cutlery or spill the wine or sit on a pine cone or-"

"A _pine cone_?!" He interrupted with an incredulous guffaw, "whatever do you mean!"

Immediately she felt her cheeks burn scarlet and the disturbing thought suddenly occurred to her - would Captain Von Trapp be one of the names on Alfred's guest list? As much as she felt that a weight had been lifted since her talk with the captain, she wasn't sure she could keep seeing him repeatedly in social situations while feigning indifference to those around her. There were too many old wounds there, wounds she didn't care to tear open again. She had to keep her distance...

"I er... I'm just not accustomed to nice dinners, that's all," she muttered, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

"We've been to plenty of nice dinners Maria and you've always been delightful company," Alfred reassured, "what was it I told you the last time?"

"That you couldn't be prouder to have me on your arm," she smiled weakly, despite her sudden nerves.

"Exactly that," he grinned, "and I meant every word."

* * *

"Have you tried looking on the terrace girls?" Georg asked, walking side by side with two of his daughters through the great hall.

"Yes father, that's the first place we looked!" Brigitta puzzled.

"But we just can't find any of them anywhere!" Marta pouted beside her.

"Well I suppose that _is_ the point of hide and seek is it not?" Georg chuckled, "come on, we'll find them all together. And if my intuition serves me correctly, I would wager that Kurt isn't too far from the kitchen!"

He swooped low then and bombarded Marta with a belly full of tickles until she was screeching with laughter, before he finally scooped her up and rested her on his hip.

"Now darling, where do you suppose we should look first?"

"To the kitchens!" His shy little girl bellowed with an adorable vengeance, pointing her finger in the direction of the scullery.

"Lead the way then Brigitta, if you please!" He saluted playfully, taking great delight in the beautiful smile his middle daughter rewarded him in return. It was moments like this, basking in the innocent joy his children brought to his life, that he could almost believe everything was right with the world. Since his meeting with fraulein Maria earlier that week, he'd thought of little else - but rather than falling into despair the same way he might've done a few years ago, instead he'd decided to take comfort in his children's love. Hadn't Maria been the one who'd taught him to cherish his children again, after all? He wouldn't make the same mistake twice...

"I like it when mother goes away to Vienna father," Marta chirped in his ear, breaking him out of his reverie.

" _Marta!"_ Brigitta hissed, her face colouring as her eyes shifted guiltily to her father, "that's not a very nice thing to say!"

"But that's when father plays with us most!" Marta protested, "Mother doesn't like to play..."

Georg's heart sank. It was true that Elsa found it difficult to engage with the children at times, but what was worse was that he actually agreed with his little girl to some extent. Elsa had left for Vienna the previous day, to attend a lady's gathering of some sort - and since her departure the children had been more relaxed, more playful, more mischievous. It was always the same whenever she went away for a few days. He became more attentive as a father, the children delighted in his constant company - and it was as though the villa itself breathed a sigh of relief whenever the front door closed behind her. The realisation was truly disturbing.

A sudden noise - much like a muffled cough - came from behind a closet door to his left and immediately his daughters sprung into action, all talk of their absent mother forgotten. They wrenched open the door to find a huddled Friedrich hiding behind a laundry basket with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Friedrich!" Georg laughed heartily, his mood lifting, "Outsmarted by your younger sisters, you ought to up your game son!"

* * *

It was some time later - when all the children had been found - that the family was interrupted in the drawing room by a particularly unamused Franz.

"A telegram for you sir," he sniffed haughtily, handing over a folded note. In the corner of his eye, Georg saw his eldest daughter's face instantly light up.

"Franz," she chirped, "who delivered-"

"Don't even _think_ about it Liesl!" Georg barked without so much as looking up from his telegram.

"But _fathe_ r!"

A stern glare silenced her abruptly but the sulky pout remained - and Georg had to fight hard to hide his amusement. It was at times like this that their Fraulein would've appeased the girl with some sort of alternative activity to distract her attention. With nothing more than a warm smile and a firm influence, Maria had been capable of diffusing a difficult situation concerning his children with a precision and grace that had often baffled Georg in the earliest days of their acquaintance. And the fond memories filled him with a sudden and intense longing, the likes of which he hadn't felt since the weeks following Agathe's death. To his utter distress, he pined for Maria in very much the same way.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he opened the telegram and scanned the contents, a heavy feeling settling like lead in his stomach as the words began to sink in. It was from Lieutenant Norden - an invitation for Captain Von Trapp plus guest to attend a dinner party at the Goldener the following evening. Of course he couldn't go. He _wouldn't_ go. Not when the fraulein would undoubtedly be there too, and on the Lieutenant's arm no less. The thought alone made him seethe, and he questioned - not for the first time since seeing Maria again - _why_ it had taken him so long to realise his true feelings. Denial perhaps? Fear? Obstinance?

It hardly mattered now. While he could no longer deny that he pined for Fraulein Maria - maybe even loved her still, despite the time that had passed - he had resolved to leave her be. He had let her go once before and he could do it again, if it would only secure her own happiness. He had no right, he didn't deserve to intrude upon her life any more than he already had. And even if his suspicions had been correct - even if she _had_ once loved him in return - she certainly didn't anymore. Lieutenant Norden was proof enough of that.

No. He had decided from the moment he'd left the Goldener that he would double his efforts to forget Fraulein Maria and improve his marriage with Elsa. He would be more attentive, more loving, more appreciative of her company - and from there, he would surely find contentment, if not true happiness.

From somewhere on the carpet, Gretl shrieked suddenly with pure delight, causing Georg to nearly jump out of his skin. Utterly perplexed, he could only gape at her - and when he noticed her eyes were fixed excitedly to something in the doorway behind him, he whirled around in his seat. To his astonishment, Max Detweiler was leaning against the jamb watching them all with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Hello Georg. Children," he beamed, rocking back on his heels mischievously, "don't get up. I let myself in."

Immediately the children launched to their feet and surrounded their uncle, the resulting din almost deafening.

"Well well well, to what do we owe this.. _unexpected_ pleasure, Max," Georg smirked, rising to his feet and shaking the impresario's hand. It'd been a while since he'd last seen his closest friend, since the sponge had returned to Vienna once his chaperoning duties were no longer needed. Much like Elsa, he had missed the salons and the endless streams of gossip. In fact, Max saw Elsa far more often than he ever saw Georg after the wedding, due to the frequency of her visits to Vienna.

"I'm in the area on the hunt for new talent and I wanted to surprise you all!" Max trilled, "though I don't suppose Elsa will be best pleased. Franz tells me she's in Vienna and I've missed her by one day!"

"That you have. But I'm sure you'll find time to fill her in on the latest scandals soon enough!" Georg mused, "children," he turned to his brood, "go and wash up for dinner please. I believe your uncle Max will no doubt be staying for the free food."

"Right you are Georg!" Max guffawed as the children hurried excitably from the room, "though you'll be relieved to know I won't be staying the night. I've got a room booked at the Bristol for a few days."

Georg gave an amused grunt and moved to the drinks cabinet to pour two glasses of scotch, handing one to the impresario.

"How's tricks then?" He asked, "Which innocent protege will you be exploiting this time? You've not come here in pursuit of my children again I hope!"

"You can't blame me for trying Georg!" Max retorted, raising his glass and taking a hearty swig, "Though I've never quite found an act to rival your fraulein. What a voice," he shook his head in disappointment, "Such a terrible _waste_!"

Stomach twisting, Georg fought to keep his face passive, "Indeed.."

"Still," his friend stated with conviction, "I shall explore every nook and cranny of this territory until I find my claim to fame."

But Georg was no longer listening, his gaze instead drifting to the telegram in his hand at the casual mention of his former governess. Absentmindedly, his eyes scanned the words again, his heart heavy in his chest.

"What's that?"

He looked up to find Max staring at the piece of paper curiously - and he immediately cursed himself for getting caught in an unguarded moment.

"It's nothing," he insisted, folding the paper a little too hurriedly.

"Tell me," the impresario beamed mischievously, no doubt sensing an opportunity for gossip.

Georg sighed with impatience, "It's just a party invitation. For a gathering at the Goldener."

"Ooh a party!" Max delighted, "I _love_ parties!" much like a child, he lunged forward and snatched the piece of paper from his friend's hand, ignoring Georg's venomous growl of protest, "Tell Max every teensy weensy little detail!"

"Max!" Georg scolded, his patience wearing thin, "Were you ever taught basic manners?!"

When the impresario only ignored him, his beady eyes roaming greedily over the contents of the telegram, Georg sighed in defeat.

"It's for myself and a plus one," he explained grouchily, nursing his drink, "but Elsa's away and I'm really not feeling up to it."

"Nonsense!" Max declared flippantly, "We're going."

" _We_?"

"Yes. _We._ It's all about networking in my industry these days, Georg. And besides," Max drained his glass with theatrical gusto, "I'm already bored and I've been in Salzburg all of five minutes! A party is just what I need."

Georg rolled his eyes in irritation, "It's more of a _dinner_ than an actual party-"

"Even better. Food _and_ drink!"

"No," Georg commanded with a severity that would've silenced an entire fleet of cadets back in the day. The impresario however, barely even flinched.

"We're going."

"Absolutely out of the question!"

"But-"

"Max!" Georg growled, "No means no!"

" _Fine!"_ Max pouted sulkily, looking very much like Kurt whenever the boy was denied dessert, "you're no _fun_ anymore Georg!"

Grateful that his friend had finally relented, Georg let out the breath he'd unknowingly been holding and gestured grouchily for Max to pass his glass over for a refill. What he failed to notice when his back was turned however, was the impresario slipping lieutenant Norden's telegram into the breast pocket of his jacket with a mischievous gleam in his eye...

* * *

 **I don't think I could bear to write a story without our beloved, mischievous Max making an appearance and causing trouble! And at this stage he doesn't even know the half of it! Keep the reviews coming, your thoughts are what keep me writing :) I do hope you're all still with me!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It's dinner party time!**

* * *

"Uncle Max, why are you so dressed up!" Brigitta exclaimed when her uncle made an appearance in the drawing room shortly before dinner the very next day. Georg turned to find the impresario adorned in a full coat and tails, his eyes shining almost as brightly as his polished shoes.

"Can't a man dress nicely for a visit with his nieces and nephews without raising suspicion?" Max retorted innocently - but Brigitta only narrowed her eyes at him with a look of knowing suspicion.

"Don't you believe me?" He implored, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence.

"No!"

"You're a very intelligent girl!" Her uncle chuckled affectionately, "I confess, you've caught me red-handed. The truth is, your father and I are going out for drinks this evening."

" _Max..."_ came Georg's low warning, but the impresario merely held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"You can put down your weapons Georg! I'm merely meeting with a potential protégé at the Bristol and I think it'd be good if you accompany me. And don't worry, I've just spoken to Frau Schmidt - she's catering only for the children this evening."

"Max!" Georg barked again, "somehow I recall specifically telling you that I would _not_ be going out this evening."

"Poppycock," Max chirped, bouncing on his heels, "I drove all the way over here just now to pick you up. And besides, you need to stop all this moping about just because Elsa is away."

"I am _not_ -"

"It's okay father," Liesl interrupted with a bright smile, "it's not often you get to see uncle Max. I can help put the little ones to bed tonight," she turned to her siblings, "right?" The rest of his brood nodded in enthusiastic agreement and Georg wondered fleetingly just what their uncle Max might've promised them in exchange for their treachery.

"One drink!" Max insisted, his eyes gleaming, "you love the Bristol!"

"No!" Georg snapped with finality.

"Humour me!"

"Absolutely not!"

* * *

It was with the utmost chagrin that Georg slipped reluctantly into Max's car some time later, fully adorned in his formalwear and medals. He had half a mind to slap the triumphant grin from the impresario's face for his impertinence, but then he only had himself to blame.

"How did you rope me into this.." He grumbled, picking imaginary lint from his trouser leg as Max whizzed through the country lanes towards town.

"By being a very charming sponge," he grinned, "it's just as Liesl said. I never get to see you anymore Georg! A drink is just what we need."

Still sulking somewhat, Georg merely grunted, staring out the passenger window. Silence enveloped them for the majority of the drive until finally they reached town and Georg felt the need to confront the uneasy feeling that was settling low in his stomach.

"We're not going to the Bristol, are we," he sighed in defeat, knowing all too well where they were really headed. He'd suspected from the very moment Max had showed up in the drawing room dressed to the nines that the impresario was intent on going to the party at the Goldener instead. Afraid of being needled with questions he didn't want to answer however, Georg had eventually relented - only to find himself in an even stickier situation as a result.

"Oh ho, am I really so transparent?" Max guffawed, "I ought to up my game. Machiavelli would be disappointed!"

"The Bristol is better you know," Georg insisted casually, though his stomach was roiling, "why don't we just go there?"

"I've already responded to your telegram accepting the invitation at the Goldener," Max shot him a sideways smirk and a wink, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

"Max, how _dare_ you take what doesn't belong to you and speak on my beh-"

"Just who is this Lieutenant Norden anyhow?" The impresario interjected, entirely unfazed by his friend's anger.

Georg sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose, "a British Royal Navy acquaintance," he gritted, "but there's something I need to tell y-"

"The British Navy?" Max wrinkled his nose, "I can't stand the British! All a bunch of toffs if you ask me!"

Something very much akin to panic was beginning to bloom in Georg's chest the closer they got to the Goldener. He didn't think he could bear to explain the bizarre circumstances concerning Fraulein Maria to the impresario, but he accepted that the damage would be significantly lessened if he just confessed before their imminent arrival. Fraulein Maria would no doubt be there, a whole life away from the abbey in which Max believed her to be ensconced.

"Max, I really need to tell you some-"

"What are you doing getting mixed up with the British Navy anyway?" The impresario needled.

"Now is not the _time_!" Georg snapped, "just listen to-"

"Ah ha!" The impresario declared as they pulled up at the Goldener - and Georg rather suspected he was deliberately trying to avoid what he believed would be a tongue-lashing if he allowed Georg to speak, "it's just as I remembered it! Grand and glorious!"

Without hesitation, he hopped out of the car and gave the keys to the valet before Georg had a chance to protest.

"Max would you just wait _one minute_!"

But the impresario was already striding towards the grand double doors, the bellboy pulling one open for him with a low bow. Full-blown panic erupted in Georg's stomach as he sprung into action, leaping from the vehicle and chasing after the impresario as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. It was in the hotel's foyer that he finally caught up with him, grabbing him closer by the upper arm.

"Max for _God's sake_!" He hissed, offering a forced cordial smile to some elderly ladies who happened to be walking past, "I have something important I need to explain-"

"Captain Von Trapp! You've arrived!" came a sudden voice from behind them that instantly turned Georg's blood cold. It was unmistakably a British accent, and Georg could do absolutely nothing to avoid the imminent train wreck as both he and Max turned to find Lieutenant Norden beaming at them, dressed in a striking tuxedo. Much to Georg's relief, Maria wasn't with him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she would make an appearance.

"You must be Herr Detweiler," Norden greeted, introducing himself with a hearty handshake for both gentlemen. As much as he hated to admit it, Georg couldn't deny the lieutenant was as sickeningly charming as he remembered, "please, come this way... " Norden gestured, "we've booked the dining room especially."

"Marvellous!" Max simpered, falling into step behind the lieutenant - and Georg took the opportunity to try and attract his friend's attention while Norden's back was turned, his desperation increasing tenfold. But it was no use... Norden was entirely within earshot and Max was delightedly oblivious to his agitated hisses, reaching enthusiastically for a glass of champagne from a passing tray and smacking his lips in appreciation.

"Welcome gentlemen," Norden gestured through the doorway once they'd reached the dining room, "do make yourselves at home. If you'll excuse me, I'll be back in just a few moments to introduce you to everyone. I just have a small request to put in at the bar."

Norden bowed his head in farewell and Georg scanned the elegant surroundings in cold dread, waiting for the inevitable moment when his former governess would appear before them. And sure enough, as if in slow motion, his eyes found her, pure and real in a room of otherwise empty faces. She was chatting with an elderly woman in the far corner, smiling radiantly - the slender curve of her neck and the gentle waves of her hair giving her an ethereal beauty. A stunning, floor length dress of a deep red hue clung to every curve of her figure, the backless number exposing elegant swathes of silken skin - and the effect on his mind and body was immediate, alarming, overwhelming. He could do little else than stare, stunned, his mouth agape and his fists clenched - until she turned gracefully, her eyes landing on the two gentlemen appraising her from the doorway.

Her smile faltered only slightly as she recognised him, a blush creeping into her cheeks, but she soon recovered - and suddenly Georg felt as though they were dancing the laendler all over again, the rest of the world disappearing around them as they stared at one another. She was so breathtaking that he couldn't move. Even the sound of Max choking violently on his drink somewhere beside him couldn't break him from his stupor.

"My God!" the impresario rasped in disbelief, thumping his own chest, "is that... surely it _can't_ be? Fraulein Maria?!"

But Georg wasn't listening - instead he watched in misery as lieutenant Norden suddenly reappeared from the bar and made his way towards Maria, lacing a hand around her waist and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"What the- !" Max spluttered, watching the scene unfold in front him with utter astonishment, until finally it dawned on him, " _Ohhh_!" He scoffed in realisation, "oh _hohoho_! She's here with the host?! Oh this is just too scandalous to be _true_ Georg!"

"Behave yourself!" Georg hissed, as Norden caught their eyes with a grin and beckoned them over.

"You mean you knew she was going to be here?" Max asked incredulously as they made their way towards the couple.

"I tried to tell you!"

"But what happened to the abbey?!"

Georg didn't have the strength nor the time to answer before they reached the host and hostess - all he could do was plaster a polite smile on his face and hope for the best.

"Fraulein!" Max exclaimed over-enthusiastically, grasping Maria's hand before anyone else had a chance to speak, "How lovely to see you again after such a long time!"

Almost instantly Georg's stomach dropped into his shoes - and it appeared the Fraulein felt the very same way, for her eyes widened and the colour drained rapidly from her cheeks.

"You two have met before?" Norden frowned, looking from Maria, to Max, to the captain for further explanation.

"I.. well..." Maria stammered, her voice trembling.

Fleeting confusion flashed across the impresario's face, but a desperate sideways glance from his friend told him everything he needed to know. Quick as a flash, he rectified the situation with a nonchalance that only a life amongst high society could've taught him.

"Just the once!" He lied effortlessly.

"Yes.." Maria recovered, "at the abbey!"

She realised her mistake far too late.

"You met this... _man_ ," Norden scowled, "at the abbey?"

"Heavens no, not the _actual_ abbey!" Max guffawed, while Georg could only observe, dumbstruck and altogether mortified, "it was at a... uh.. a charity event where the Nonnberg choir was in attendance! And fraulein Maria's soprano happened to catch my attention. I'm a headhunter for the performing arts you see... " he stated proudly, "but alas, she told me she wanted to pursue the Lord's work!"

Norden seemed satisfied enough with the explanation, for he turned his attention to the Fraulein instead, "soprano? I didn't know you could sing!"

"Well.. not really.. " Maria muttered, her face reddening as she took refuge behind her champagne flute - and Georg was again forced to contemplate exactly why she hadn't shared that part of herself with her beau. She'd always loved to sing, bursting into melody everywhere and anywhere, as though she couldn't bear to keep the notes inside. It was part of what had made him fall in love with her in the first place...

"Always so modest," Norden chuckled, pulling her closer by the waist until Georg rather felt like punching him.

"Come now gentlemen," the host clapped his hands together, "let me introduce you to a few friends of mine."

* * *

"I don't like that Detweiler fellow," Alfred sulked quietly at the bar as Maria sipped on her third champagne in an attempt to calm her fast-beating heart. As if seeing the captain again wasn't punishment enough for her lies, Herr Detweiler had nearly exposed her - and the thought of what might have resulted was making her feel sick.

"He was simpering all over you."

"He really wasn't Alfred..." she sighed a little impatiently.

"He's looking at you right now!"

Following Alfred's eye line, Maria discovered Herr Detweiler and the captain on the other side of the room, the former muttering away to his friend conspiratorially and casting hurried glances in her direction. But it was the captain who held her full attention. Dressed in a suit and tailcoat with the Maria Theresian cross draped proudly around his neck, he looked exactly as he had done the night of the Von Trapp party, and the thought caused an unwanted fluttering in her stomach. He was saying very little, leaning lightly against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest, his face sullen. _Brooding,_ she realised with a hint of a knowing smile. About what however, she couldn't quite fathom.

"Herr Detweiler's probably just scheming about how best to make some money out of me," she shrugged, rolling her eyes.

"Only with your voice I hope!" Alfred bristled, swigging his whiskey bitterly, before his face eventually softened, "you know you really ought to sing for _me_ sometime," he requested affectionately, "I'm sure I'd love to hear it..."

She could only smile meekly in return, "maybe some day..." the truth was, she hadn't much felt like singing since leaving the abbey - and when the time finally came for dinner to be served a few minutes later, she couldn't deny that she was grateful for a distraction from the topic.

To her immense relief, there were just enough people seated around the table to provide a much-needed buffer between herself and the captain. Alfred took her left side as host, while a white-haired man who had earlier been introduced as Colonel Waltham filled the space to her right, alongside his wife. Next to them sat two young lieutenants whose names Maria had forgotten, while the opposite side of the table hosted Herr Detweiler, Captain Von Trapp, a moustachioed man named Major Douglas and his wife, and a young couple who Maria and Alfred had met in a jazz bar on their first evening together in Salzburg. It was a bizarre mix of people to say the least, but the conversation flowed easily - that was, until the topic turned to the navy.

"Best and worst days of my life, serving in the armed forces!" Max declared jovially.

"Well it takes discipline, determination and thick skin," Norden bristled, evidently implying that Max possessed none of these attributes.

"Right you are!" the impresario beamed, oblivious to the barb, "And the Austro-Hungarian navy consisted of some of the most determined, disciplined, thick-skinned young men in the entire world. Why, just look at the captain here - " he clapped a hand onto Georg's shoulder and Georg immediately stiffened, "decorated by the Emperor on more than one occasion for bravery in combat!"

"Well what a shame the Austro-Hungarian navy no longer _exists_..." the lieutenant muttered.

"Alfred!" Maria chastised, aghast - and Georg instantly felt his blood boil. Whether it was due to Norden's barb or the sound of that sweet, high voice calling another man's name, he couldn't quite be sure. Either way, he dropped his spoon and let it clink deafeningly against the china of his dessert bowl.

"How many wars have you fought in lieutenant?" He challenged matter-of-factly.

Norden looked a little taken aback at being addressed by his naval associate rather than the man he'd deliberately been confronting, "Well.. no wars, _per se_ Captain but-"

"And how many otherwise worthless scraps of metal have you been honoured with for seeing unspeakable things?"

"Well I.."

"Precisely what I thought," Georg muttered authoritatively, tucking back into his dessert, "Still, you're a young man - barely out of boyhood. You have a whole life ahead of you in which to prove your worth."

The sudden reddening in Norden's cheeks filled Georg with immense satisfaction.

"It doesn't do a man good to spend a life serving in solitude," interrupted Major Douglas, "He needs something to fight for. Something to protect. Like your Maria here, lieutenant - " he gestured, tapping his nose knowingly, "ensure you make an honest woman out of her before she realises her folly in choosing you in the first place!"

A light titter of laughter made its way around the table, until-

"She doesn't need _protecting_!"

The entire room suddenly fell silent and it wasn't until all eyes landed on him that Georg realised the angry protest had torn from his own lips. Lieutenant Norden appeared dumbstruck while the Fraulein's mouth hung agape - and Max was fixing him with a look as though he'd sprouted two heads.

 _Oh God._

"Er.. that is, what I mean to say-" he stumbled, breaking into a cold sweat, "is that we live in a modern world nowadays Major! Women are pursuing their own dreams and deciding their own paths. They no longer need our protection..."

"Here here!" Cried Lady Waltham, raising her glass triumphantly as the room once again broke into easy laughter. Much to Georg's immense relief, everyone resumed their previous conversations, all talk of the navy forgotten. That was, everyone except Fraulein Maria, whose curious eyes remained fixed on him - and suddenly he was filled with a deep ache, an intense longing to reach across the table and take her hand in his amongst a room of strangers. He was reminded of the way she'd looked at him when he'd first sung Edelweiss - warm, curious, affectionate, fascinated - as though she was seeing him for the very first time.

And oh God did it hurt to remember.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Max hissed some time later at the bar, nursing his digestif.

"What was what?" Georg feigned ignorance, glowering at his drink.

" _She doesn't need protecting!"_ Max mimicked him in a low, Neanderthal type drawl, "that's what!"

Georg merely shrugged petulantly and took a large gulp of his whiskey.

"My God," Max scoffed as realisation dawned, "she still affects you doesn't she! Even after all this time... "

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Georg snapped, but much to his mortification he felt his cheeks redden and the impresario merely snorted.

"Don't play me for a fool Georg, I noticed the way you two used to look at each other. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife! It was all very delicious, you know - the master of the house and the virginal postulant-cum-governess driving you up the walls. One of the most entertaining summers I've ever had!"

"You've made your point.." Georg snarled.

"Thank God Elsa isn't here to see your fawning-"

"I am not fawning!"

Max merely chuckled devilishly.

"I bet her lieutenant is driving you to _madness_!" he exclaimed with obvious glee, "he's quite a catch isn't he. Handsome, accomplished, charming, young-"

"Enough!" Georg growled, slamming his tumbler down on the bar, "I'm going to get some air."

"Good idea!" the impresario teased, "wouldn't want you getting too hot under the collar now would we!"

But Georg was already halfway across the room, stalking towards the doors and then out into the hallway with a heavy scowl. He needed a moment to catch his breath, to regain some composure before he truly embarrassed himself. Rounding a corner, he spotted a balcony at the end of a long corridor, the glass doors thrown open and the cool evening breeze forcing the curtains to sway in a sporadic rhythm. That would do perfectly, he decided.

It wasn't until he reached the balcony doors and pushed the curtain aside however, that he realised his grave mistake - for he was suddenly confronted by a sight that crippled him like a knife to the chest. Maria and lieutenant Norden were occupying the balcony and they were locked in a passionate embrace. Norden's back was to Georg, and he could see Maria's dainty fingers grasping at the hair on the nape of her beau's neck, could see the lieutenant's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, could hear the sound of her delighted whimpers as their mouths moved over one another's - and white hot flames of rage and despair suddenly erupted in the pit of Georg's stomach.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't even move - he could only stare dumbstruck as the knife twisted mercilessly through his heart. Nothing - not even the prior realisation that he might still love her - could have prepared him for the devastation of seeing her like this. In someone else's arms. And suddenly he was burdened with another unbearable image in his mind's eye - the image of her naked form nestled under her beau, her face torn with ecstasy. Had they lain together, he wondered, had she known such pleasure with the likes of _him_? The thought alone made him dizzy with grief.

Maria may have been preoccupied with the newly discovered heat of Alfred's kisses, but a bizarre shiver suddenly ran down her spine, an inexplicable and instinctive feeling that she was being watched - and it caused her eyes to flutter open mid-kiss. What she saw over Alfred's shoulder stilled her beating heart. The captain was stood in the doorway as though frozen to the spot, watching their embrace with undeniable anguish written across his features. Maria's shock was instant, her sudden turmoil crushing - and her heart turned over in her chest at the look he was giving her. It was a vulnerable look of despair, betrayal, hurt and uninhibited yearning - a look that turned her to ashes. And suddenly it was so painfully obvious to her, so clear in her otherwise addled mind, so blatant in the way her heart thundered: the passing of time had changed absolutely _nothing._

Immediately she broke the kiss with a gasp, and Alfred's eyes flew open, studying her face with confusion. He must've noticed that her gaze was elsewhere, for he whirled around on the spot to ascertain what had captured her attention - but Captain Von Trapp had already fled, leaving the doorway empty and Maria's composure in ruins.

* * *

 **A/N: VOTE TIME! I need to know whether you want this story to become M rated or not. It could go either way so it's down to a vote - because I'm a people-pleaser. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter too, I hope you liked the angst and our captain's jealousy!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I feel like I'm going to upset a few people with this controversial update and for that I can only apologise in advance! But I had to go with my heart (and the popular vote!) With this in mind, this chapter is a pretty strong M.**

* * *

It was half an hour after his flight from the balcony when Georg finally found Max, smoking a cigar with Major Douglas out in the hotel's vast gardens. Having witnessed his worst nightmare coming true, Georg didn't think he could bear to stay a second longer at the Goldener - but Max was the one with the blasted car keys.

"Gentlemen," he greeted with a stiff nod as he approached, politely refusing a cigar from the Major, "Actually I wondered if it would be possible to have a word with _you_ Max? Alone?"

"Say no more, captain," Major Douglas stubbed out his cigar on a nearby balustrade, "I best go inside anyway and check that my wife isn't spending our life's savings on digestifs! Excuse me..."

When they were finally alone, Georg wasted no time in letting the impresario know of his intentions, "we need to leave," he growled venomously, the image of Maria and her lieutenant still burned into his retinas.

"But I'm having fun!" Max protested.

"I don't care, I'm not staying here a moment longer."

"Why not?" the impresario pouted, "I thought you were doing rather well tonight, despite the whole - you know _\- 'she doesn't need protecting'_ fiasco."

"Max!"

"Oh _alright_!" he huffed, sensing from his friend's tone that it would be unwise to argue any further, "just let me finish my cigar and we'll go, if you insist on ruining my evening."

Georg glared at his watch impatiently. It was already 10.30pm, and he began shifting from foot to foot as Max took great delight in deliberately prolonging his smoking. Both men were too preoccupied glowering at each other in their silent feud to notice the night sky filling with dense clouds, nor the wind beginning to pick up speed.

"For _God's sake_ Max!" Georg snarled, "would you _please_ just-"

But a sudden clap of thunder immediately silenced him, and within a minute the heavens had opened, rain lashing down upon the two of them in great waves.

"Bugger!" Max exclaimed, as they hurried back indoors, shaking the raindrops from their hair and coats once they'd rejoined the dinner party.

"My God, it's really coming down!" The impresario marvelled, pressing his face to the window pane, "We'll have to wait for it to let up before driving," he smirked devilishly, edging his way towards the bar, "What a terrible _shame!"_

But much to Georg's chagrin another half hour passed and the rain didn't relent, the thunder and lightning instead growing more violent - until eventually a bellboy came to inform the party that the roads out of town had been deemed too treacherous to travel on in the darkness of night.

Dismay enveloped him, and he swore under his breath when he felt Maria's eyes shift guiltily in his direction from across the room, she and the lieutenant having apparently returned from their elicit rendezvous. Perhaps there would be a spare room at the Bristol, he thought hopefully - it was only a few minutes' walk across town and he would at least have Max nearby to distract him. A quick phone call at the concierge desk however, quashed his hopes - for the Bristol was already full. The same held true for the other hotels close by - for it seemed that everybody in Salzburg who'd got caught up in the storm had had a similar idea.

"Not to worry everyone!" lieutenant Norden announced a short while later in the dining room as his guests discussed the trials of making it home, "I've spoken to the manager and he's kindly offered to have his valet chauffeur you to your nearby hotels. Major, Captain - given your circumstances, we've been provided with two additional rooms for the night."

"Well it appears to be all arranged," Major Douglas raised his glass, "bravo lieutenant!"

But Georg failed to share in the older man's enthusiasm, his gaze once again shifting to Maria. She looked away from him instantly, her face a picture of torment - and he wondered how the hell he was going to survive the night in such close proximity to the woman he craved and the man she'd been embracing.

* * *

It must've been around 2am later that night when Georg found himself in the lounge of the Goldener, entirely unable to sleep. After retiring from the dinner party, he'd rung Frau Schmidt at home and Elsa out in Vienna to inform them of his whereabouts, and then he'd laid in bed staring at the ceiling - until it became apparent that rest was going to evade him.

The plush lounge was empty and still, draped in the night's shadow as the rest of the hotel slept, the rain still pelting violently against the window panes. Absentmindedly he made his way to the grand piano, knowing he would find solace in allowing his fingers to dance across the ivory keys. With nothing else to wear, he was still adorned in his suit and waistcoat, though he'd abandoned the bow tie and jacket - and suddenly he rather wished he was still wearing the Maria Theresian cross, to remind him that he had once possessed courage in the face of sheer hopelessness.

But as he took a seat at the bench, his fingers toying with a few mindless notes, he felt anything but courageous. Instead he felt defeated, devastated, torn in two - and he could see no way out of the mess he'd created. Taking a deep breath to ease the ache in his chest, he began to play a slow, dark piece from memory, a piece that soothed him, a piece that allowed him to forget for a few short minutes, as he immersed himself in the melody that filled the room.

* * *

Maria had spent the better part of two hours watching the rain fall outside her hotel room window, the memory of Captain Von Trapp's face on the balcony still haunting her. Inexperienced in matters of the heart, her own was torn with confusion - but she knew this time that she wasn't suffering from false hope, or naivety, or delusion the way she might've been 10 months ago. No, this time there was no mistaking what she'd seen in his eyes...

The distant sound of a piano from somewhere downstairs pulled her from her daze, and instantly she felt goosebumps prickle her skin under the fabric of the dress she hadn't bothered to change out of. It was a melancholy sound, born from the obvious torment of the elusive pianist, the notes coiling around her heart like ivy - and somehow she knew, without room for doubt, just who the skilful fingers belonged to.

As if in a dream she followed the sound - and sure enough she found him, bent low over the instrument in the lounge, his shoulders hunched with tension and his body cast in shadow. She watched him unseen from the doorway, her heart breaking as the quiet notes filled her with sorrow - until suddenly the words were tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"You never wrote..."

At the sound of her voice, the air was instantly knocked from Georg's lungs and his fingers froze against the keys, his heart in his throat. He didn't have to turn around to know who the broken whisper had belonged to - the hairs standing up on the back of his neck were explanation enough. And suddenly the air was thick with the crushing combination of hurt, anguish, desire and longing - her humble words so simple and yet so devastating in their meaning.

"You never came after me..."

So she'd seen it then - his jealousy, his despair, his regret. He could say nothing. He could do nothing. He could scarcely draw breath. The hurt in her voice was twisting his insides into knots and he knew he couldn't even bear to look at her. Didn't she know how much he'd suffered after she'd left? Couldn't she tell how much it was killing him?

The silence stretched on, unbearable in its intensity - until he could take it no longer.

"Thirty-six times..." he eventually whispered to the piano keys, so quietly that Maria wondered if she'd imagined it.

"What?"

He whirled around to face her then and launched from the stool, shocking her into silence with the tortured look in his eyes.

"Thirty-six times I telephoned the abbey in the ten days after you left..."

"I-"

"I counted!" he implored, his face a shadow of grief, "Thirty six times I picked up that damned phone longing to hear your voice! Thirty-six times I had to put it down again, no closer to the truth. Thirty-six times I vowed to try again the next day, and the next day after that. But the Reverend Mother always told me the same damned thing. That you had returned safely and that you didn't want to talk to _anyone_!"

His voice had risen with every word spoken and his eyes were black with anger by the time he was finished - an anger that she knew wasn't directed at her, but at the tangled web they'd found themselves in. She knew because she felt it too, a desperate resentment for the cards the world had dealt them, for the cruel twists and turns of fate. And before she could prevent it, the bitterness she'd suppressed for so many months finally found an outlet, the target of which was the devastating man in front of her, the man who'd stolen her heart.

"You _knew.."_ she accused, her voice breaking, "you knew what was happening between us last summer! You.. I didn't know any better! I was confused, I.. I was _terrified_!"

"You think I wasn't?!" He took a step closer, "Of course I knew! And it put the fear of God into me! There were times when we would look at each other and I could hardly breathe! No amount of life experience prepares you for something like that! But I had no right," he shouted, "You wanted to serve God!"

"I _did_ want to serve God!" her voice was a raw scrape, "But that was before.."

She trailed off hopelessly, and his heart galloped against his ribs.

"Before what?"

Silence.

"Before _what_!"

"Before I felt things I'd never felt before," She whispered, her eyes downcast.

"For me?" He retorted bitterly, "Or for your darling lieutenant?"

"That's not fair!" She defended, her anger rising, "If I'd have known-"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted ironically, "if you'd have known and if I'd have known and if we'd all _known,_ then perhaps things would be different!"

"You had the power to change it!" She accused, "But you did nothing!"

"You did nothing either! You could've come back! You didn't have to run!" His eyes were a sea of unbridled torment, "You could've come back to me..."

"I wanted to come back!" She pleaded, "But then I saw the engagement announcement in the paper! How could I possibly have come to you when you were promised to another!"

"And how could I have possibly come to _you_ when you were promised to God!"

She was shaking her head in disbelief, in utter denial, "this is a nightmare," she murmured, as though to herself, "We need to forget this ever happened... Time will help us forget-"

"It's not going to go away, Maria - you won't forget! Neither of us will forget!" He insisted, his entire body rigid with anguish, "It's always been you, for all this time! Don't you see?!"

"Then you shouldn't have married _someone else_!" She cried angrily, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, the room pulsating with a dangerous heat.

" _Finally_ , my darling!" he growled, "we agree on _something_!"

And before she could catch her breath, before she could determine up from down, before she could form a single coherent thought, he was charging across the room and taking her into his arms, crushing his lips to her own with a hoarse sound of longing and defiance.

Almost instantly, her entire world burst into flames - and her first instinct was to push him away, to scream and shout and fight against the raging fire that was suddenly burning through her veins. But all she could manage was a wrenching sob of need, her mutinous hands grasping fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him as close as their bodies would allow. The chaos in her mind only fuelled her desperation, tongues clashing and gasps mingling as they fought for air between furious embraces.

Nothing - not even Alfred's tender affections - could've prepared her for the overwhelming devastation of kissing her captain, nor the impact that his solid body was having on her own. Every nerve burned for more of him, every synapse fired with the heat of his touch - and it appeared the effect was mutual, for he was rasping her name over and over again like a prayer, allowing not so much as a single centimetre between them.

Despite his overpowering need, Georg was beside himself with anguish - knowing all too well that he was forsaking the sanctity of marriage with his deplorable behaviour. He deserved to be keelhauled, but at the very same time, the sheer elation he felt in finally holding Maria in his arms was impossible to ignore. And she didn't seem keen to resist him either, her hands moving frantically up his chest and lacing into his hair, her delectable whimpers setting his body alight.

When she finally broke for air a few minutes later and gasped his name on a torn whisper - not sir, not captain, but _Georg_ \- he felt the last of his resolve crumble to dust.

"I know sweetheart, I _know_ ," he soothed desperately, feeling the turmoil raging in his own heart and pressing frantic kisses to her throat for fear that she might push him away, "I'm here. I'm here now."

Much to his euphoria, she only clung to him harder, her mouth finding his again in a powerful kiss of her own initiation - and instantly he felt his body ignite with arousal. Somewhere amidst the chaos of their mouths clashing together, his arms moved of their own accord and lifted her from the ground, until he was carrying her in a frantic daze to the piano, setting her atop the sleek wood and sidling between her legs, the fabric of her dress shifting to make room for him. He was ravenous, ragged, desperate as he pressed every inch of himself against her, licking at her mouth, tasting the rapid pulse at the base of her neck.

"I love you Maria, I love you," he confessed hoarsely, repeating it over and over like a mantra between his affectionate assaults, "my darling, my love.."

Her heart in her throat, Maria could only pant against the sheer gravity of the emotions she was experiencing - grief, desire, guilt, anguish, fear, arousal, elation - a deep chasm in her soul for which the man in her arms was the only cure. He loved her. _He loved her._ And she loved him - of course she did! She'd loved him from the moment he'd blown that silly whistle, and no amount of time, nor distance, nor denial, nor lieutenants could refute it. The realisation forced tears to her eyes, and she clung to him for dear life - the only thing true in a world of confusion. Everything else had ceased to exist - all she knew was his lips, his hands, his ardour, his professions of love. And suddenly she was overcome with a need more powerful than she'd ever experienced before, a need to assuage the unbearable longing she'd suffered, a need to be with him entirely, whatever the cost.

Before she knew what she was doing, her trembling fingers were grappling with the buttons on his waistcoat, parting the lapels and pushing the garment from his shoulders in a flurry of desperation. It wasn't until he felt her doing the same with his shirt that Georg suddenly broke their kiss, pulling back and staring at her in sheer astonishment.

"Maria, I..." he rasped in disbelief as her fingers flew down the row of buttons - but the look in her eyes made the sentence catch in his throat. It was an agonised look of heartache and yearning, of need and hunger, of a love and trust meant only for the two of them. There was no hint of fear, no trepidation - only a raw intensity that left no doubt in his mind as to what she was offering him. And suddenly he was floored, moved beyond words by the enormity of the sacrifices she was willing to make.

"Oh _darling..."_ he choked, taking her back into his arms without a moment's hesitation, no other words needing to be spoken. She sobbed against his mouth, the emotion in the sound almost too intense for him to bear - and she pulled the shirt from his waistband, pushing the material down his body. Her fingers grasped at the muscles of his back, moving rapidly up and over his shoulder blades, down through the smattering of hair on his chest. Near desperate to feel her skin against his own, he pulled the straps of her dress from her shoulders, nipping at the silken skin beneath - and the garment immediately pooled at her waist. Her bra soon followed and before he knew it his mouth was upon her, his tongue dragging across each diamond-hard nipple until she was crying out from the sensation.

Maria had never known pleasure like it, and yet an acute, raging, burning ache was beginning to build inside her, an ache that would send her into despair if he didn't relieve it soon. She was lost to her body's desires, she knew - lost to him and the deepest wishes of her heart.

 _"I need to have you,"_ she heard him choke against her breast, his voice thick with emotion, "tell me I can have you Maria."

She knew that he was talking not only of a need for her body but a need for her soul as well, a need for her heart. Could she give it to him? She wondered, knowing the danger they were putting themselves in? Knowing the sin they were committing? She wasn't sure of her answer - all she knew was that she didn't want to think. She wanted only to feel.

"You can have me.."

The whispered words were barely out of her mouth before he gave a sob of relief, his fingers tugging the rest of her dress and undergarments away from her body until she was exposed vulnerably beneath him, a pale satin vision as she lay back against the dark wood of the piano.

How beautiful she was, he thought, so unashamed and strong in her passion, even after they had argued so brutally - and he felt an intense rush of fervent awe and hunger as he frantically rid himself of his own clothes in his desperation to be with her. He'd meant every word when he'd confessed his love, and he could hardly contain the whimper of longing that escaped his lips when he finally moved between her silken thighs, his arousal brushing agonisingly against her slick heat as he gathered her into his arms.

"Georg..." she whimpered uncertainly, his name on her lips like music to his ears, "I haven't.. I've never... but I want to. With you.."

The gravity of what he was doing suddenly hit him with the force of a deadly torpedo and he felt as though he'd been doused in cold water. He was about to take her virtue, in the lounge of the Goldener no less. It was unforgivable, deplorable, inconceivable. But she must've sensed his sudden hesitation for her eyes flashed with panic and she looped her arms around his neck.

"Please.. don't stop," she begged, "I.. I love you too, Georg. _I love you_."

It was the first time she'd said it out loud, the fact that she loved him - and his entire body suddenly burned with another wave of heady arousal, his heart thundering against his ribs in response to her confession. One look in her eyes told him that she meant every word, and his entire world ignited.

"I'm going to love you the way you deserve," he reassured her on a whisper, stroking the hair from her face, his eyes black with desire, "The way I should've done a long time ago."

He skated his tongue along her nipple again, across her collar bone, up her neck, the wet heat of his mouth meeting hers - until suddenly she felt his arousal, like satin and marble all at once, gradually easing her open. Almost instantly he stilled, barely an inch or two inside her, watching her with such adoration in his eyes that she felt any remaining doubt fade to dust.

And then finally, while the blood pounded in her ears, he filled her with one ardent thrust, cradling her in his arms as she hissed against the sudden discomfort. Murmuring words of adoration, he held her there patiently until his hips began a languid rhythm against her, the tenderness she felt giving way to the most wonderful, white-hot friction, a sensation of being stretched and filled.

Georg's body, his heart, were near frantic with the realisation that he was finally making love to her, but he willed himself to be gentle nonetheless, to lose himself in her slowly, to love her devotedly and languidly until she was gasping and trembling beneath him. She gripped his face between her hands, their foreheads pressed together as they shared heated whispers and ragged breaths, the pleasure building not only where their bodies were joined but where their hearts thundered together in synchronisation. Nothing existed besides their entwined limbs and the overwhelming mess of emotions emanating between them, the pleasure, the sorrow, the love, the anger, the fear, the anguish - all of which could be relieved only in the way their bodies relentlessly moved as one.

He carried her with him tirelessly, his stormy eyes only ever leaving her face when he chose to pour his adoration into heady kisses that turned her blood hot, the physical intimacy and emotional distress growing so intense that tears again welled behind her eyes. But he stayed with her, his gaze locked with her own as he rocked their bodies devotedly with deep nudges that skimmed a place made of molten, bringing his thumbs to her eyes and brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.

"I'm here my darling," he rasped, cradling her trembling frame against his to shield her, as he felt every nerve burning, every synapse striving towards his own release, "I'm right here with you."

And it was the strained ecstasy in his voice, the promise behind his words, the sight of his handsome face crumbling with the strain of his own pleasure that finally sent her soaring high above the shadows into a place of blinding white light, her entire body convulsing with the sheer force of it. Mere moments later, her name tearing from his lips and his body wracking with shudders, Georg followed her into the abyss. Falling limp in her arms afterwards and gasping words of adoration against her skin, he cradled her close, pressing kisses to every part of her body that he could reach - until gradually her heartbeat slowed, and eventually her tears stopped falling.

* * *

 **A/N: So what do you think? Are you devastated? Are you happy? Are you hopelessly torn? I know I've been bold with an affair plot but I honestly feel like the separation, the angst, and the intensity of their love would have eventually driven them into each other's arms. But maybe I'm wrong? Your thoughts, as always, are much appreciated!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Firstly, a huge thank you for all your reviews - it's so interesting to hear everyone's different points of view! I have to admit I'm pretty torn myself, I absolutely abhor cheating! But on the other hand, I also believe it's not a simple case of black and white - particularly when two people may have been torn apart for all the wrong reasons. I also think in high society a lot of people married for station rather than love and so some people really would have found themselves in situations where their heart belonged to somebody else. I know it doesn't make it right – but yay for love.**

 **All that being said, the night isn't over for Georg and Maria - but I hope you'll bear with me and not judge them too harshly just yet!**

 **This chapter also contains M content. I'll get round to changing the rating.**

* * *

Georg's heartbeat was still thundering with the aftermath of their passion, his body slick with perspiration and his head buried in his lover's chest as he fought to catch his breath. She'd been crying in his arms when they'd come apart together - and he understood why. It had been entirely overwhelming, even for him - a man who'd had more than his fair share of intimate encounters in the past.

True - he'd had a string of lovers in his youth followed by a very loving and fulfilling marriage - but never had he made love with such raw emotion, such sublime intensity, such open despair, driven solely by 10 long months of need and heartache. His whole body was still trembling from the force of it, his mind a sea of white noise - and he didn't think it was possible to love her anymore than he did right then and there, still buried inside her - as close as two people could be. The blood still pounded in his ears, the only sound his erratic breathing and her heartbeat soft in his ear, until-

"This was wrong..." she murmured into the silence, as though to herself - and suddenly he felt as though a bucket of ice had been thrown over him. The detached despondency in her words turned his blood cold with panic and instantly he lifted his head to look into her eyes - but she was staring absently at the ceiling, her face a pallid mask.

"No.. no, it wasn't wrong," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion, "it wasn't. This is _right_... " he held her closer, desperately, peppering her body with frantic kisses, "it's everything _else_ that's wrong!"

"We shouldn't have done it..." she muttered, unresponsive to his affections - and his turmoil only intensified with the accuracy of her words. He could already feel her slipping through his fingers, and the realisation crushed him. Gathering her into his arms, he carried her on shaking legs to a nearby sofa and lay her upon it, covering her body gently with his own and stroking the hair from her face.

"Sometimes love makes you do absurd things, _unthinkable_ things.." he implored, desperately trying to bring her back to him, "but that doesn't make us _wrong_ , it makes us human."

"You can't love me.." she whispered, her voice so unlike her own.

"Oh but I _do_ ," he choked with feeling, stroking her face with gentle hands, "I do Maria. Please, don't push me away. Not again. Look at me."

She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes watery with the remnants of her tears - and he was relieved to see at least some emotion in them despite her sudden distance towards him.

"What I've done is unforgivable," she whispered, her face marred with anguish.

"What _we've_ done.. " he corrected on a murmur, as though coaxing a startled lamb, "we did it together Maria. And what we did was make love - impulsively, wildly, passionately. But I don't regret it, not one bit. Perhaps I deserve to be punished for my actions but I can't bring myself to deny how I feel, not anymore," he kissed her hard on the mouth then, as though to assign conviction to his words, his hands threading through her hair. When he finally pulled away a few seconds later however, he was dismayed to see that she was turning listlessly away from him, her face a picture of guilt.

"Maria, I _love_ you," he rasped, trying to make her understand, "I've wanted this since the day you walked through my door. I can't resist it and neither do I want to. I need you-"

"We can't be together..." she whispered, and he felt his heart turn over in his chest, "tonight is all there can be between us.."

"We _can_ be together, we... it'll be hard, of course it will," he choked, "but we'll find a way..."

She wanted to give in. She wanted to turn back time and erase all the mistakes they'd made, to re-write history and start all over again. But she knew by now that life was no fairytale. They had chosen separate paths.

"I won't be anybody's mistress," she insisted, already wracked with guilt from their one impulsive encounter.

"I don't want you as my mistress Maria," he beseeched, "Just say the word and I will leave Elsa in a _heartbeat_ -"

"That's insane!" she whimpered incredulously, squeezing her eyes shut in turmoil.

"No.. no it's _not_ insane," he implored, "Insanity is letting the woman you love go for a second time and staying in a marriage of convenience for the sake of ease!"

She didn't refute him, nor make any indication that she'd even heard him. Instead she lay there, silent, as though trying to make sense of what he was offering her. Waiting patiently for her reply, he watched her as the silence stretched on, wanting more than anything to understand what was going through her mind. Was she caught, like him, in a relationship that her heart wasn't truly in? Was she torn between an old flame and a new love? Did she regret what they'd-

"Alfred and I are leaving for England next week," she murmured suddenly, so quietly that Georg barely heard her, "I... I won't be coming back."

It killed her to say those five simple words, so straightforward and yet so devastating in their meaning. She knew they would break her captain's heart - and the silence that followed was deafening, his dark eyes studying her with so much shock and despair that she felt her heart shatter. She'd been trying to stay strong, trying to mask her emotions in the aftermath of their passion - but one look at the hurt in his eyes and she felt the bitter sting of tears once again.

"No," he rasped in disbelief, his voice cracking, "please. Don't do this.. don't run from me again-"

"I have to," she pleaded, choking back a sob, "I have a life back there.. And you, you have a wife!"

"My _wife_ ," he scoffed bitterly, as though the word was poison, "Do you want to know where my _wife_ is?! She's in Vienna. With her lover."

Maris at least had the good grace to look shocked.

"She doesn't know that I'm aware of it, but I've known for some time now," Georg sighed, "she goes to Vienna every so often. An old associate of mine saw them together in the city in an unguarded moment-"

"Georg, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm not," he said frankly, "I've never seen her so _happy_ , to tell you the truth. And I'm at my happiest with the children when she's away. Our marriage is a charade Maria. We rarely touch, we don't laugh, we don't play..."

"Two wrongs still don't make a right..." Maria insisted, shaking her head in defeat, "you still have a family to think of."

" _You_ are my family," his face was so torn and vulnerable that Maria could hardly bear it, "The children miss you everyday. _I_ miss you everyday..."

"I'm leaving Georg.. " hot tears spilled from her eyes as the words left her lips, "It has to be this way.."

"But... but you don't love him," he replied incredulously, "I know you don't!"

His words were painfully accurate, she knew. But it didn't change anything.

"I may not love him the way I..." she trailed off hopelessly, unable to say the truth of what she felt, "but he is a good man. He doesn't deserve this," guilt surged through her veins once again, "I made a promise to him. And you made more than a promise to your wife. We're talking about unravelling people's lives!"

"Say it.." he requested softly, the gentle command taking her by surprise.

"Say what?"

"That you love me..."

Turmoil tore at her heart - but as much as she wanted to deny her feelings, she couldn't bear to lie to him - not when he was looking at her with such open distress.

"I _do_ love you Georg..." she whispered as silent tears fell, the confession costing her a great deal more than just her heart, "But it's wrong.. what we've done is wrong."

The sound he made - somewhere between a sob and a whimper - made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"I... I can't bear to have found you at last only to lose you again," he begged, "this can't be how it ends."

She was shaking her head in desperate hopelessness, choking back tears, "It's just too late for us, Georg..."

Speechless with despair, Georg could find no more words of protest. He knew deep down that she was right - that they had done wrong, that they could not simply erase the decisions they had made. And in the face of such crushing devastation, when everything before him seemed utterly hopeless - he did something he hadn't done in five long years. He wept.

He wept for all that was, and for all that could never be. He wept for all the mistakes he'd made and the opportunities he'd let slip through his fingers. He wept for the loneliness, the longing, the hopelessness, the frustration. And all the while he clung to her like a small child, his face buried in her chest where the heat of his kisses still seared her skin. Stunned and devastated, she could do little else than bury her hands in his hair and hold him to her breast, moved to her core by his raw vulnerability.

"I'm sorry Georg, I'm _sorry_.." she pleaded over and over as she wept with him, feeling his body wrack with the force of his anguish. Never in her life had she seen a man cry - let alone a man of such stoic poise and austere command - and the vehement intimacy of the moment was almost too keen to bear. Long minutes passed where she held him close, absorbing his pain, soothing him with whispers and gentle hands - until eventually his body stilled and his ragged breathing calmed. He lay there with his head against her heart for so long then, that she thought he might've fallen asleep - until suddenly she heard his voice raised in whisper, "spend the night with me.."

Doubt instantly shrouded her.

"Georg, I.."

He lifted his head and looked at her with eyes dark with sorrow, "If tonight is all we can have.. " he murmured, "I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

She knew she shouldn't, she knew she needed to forget this night had ever happened. No good could possibly come of torturing herself with any more of him. But as it was, she found herself nodding in wordless acquiescence - the thought of leaving him too difficult to contemplate just yet. Once she said goodbye, they would most likely never see each other again, and the thought terrified her. To spend the rest of the night with him would be to go against everything she'd just avowed, she knew - and it would pull on the tattered strands of her heart more than she could probably bear. But there would be plenty of time for guilt, for heartache, for repentance tomorrow... With sunrise would come lifelong separation - and so she would allow tonight to be theirs.

Never taking his eyes off her, he stood and took her hand wordlessly, leading her back to the piano and dressing her with gentle, patient movements that made her feel utterly cherished. His fingers skimmed her skin like hot velvet as he pulled the fabric into place, his gaze so penetrating that she felt as though he was taking her clothes _off_ rather than helping her back into them. Once he'd adorned his own trousers and shirt, he kissed the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, brushing his lips across her skin until she felt her blood begin to turn hot again.

"Come.." he whispered affectionately, and within ten minutes she found herself in his hotel room, her mind a storm of uncertainty and confusion. Her body too was sore and aching from their lovemaking - and he had insisted on running her a bath to help soothe the tenderness left behind by their passion. When the water was hot and bubbles filled the tub, he undressed her again - slowly, lovingly - as though he wanted to commit every curve, every freckle to memory. The pace of his movements was so different to their frantic undressing earlier that evening that she found herself blushing under his awed gaze, wondering why on earth he found a girl like her so-

" _Beautiful,"_ he muttered, his hands tracing her skin and making her breath hitch, "just beautiful."

She couldn't ever remember feeling more so - and not for the first time she questioned how something so sinful in its entirety could feel so wonderful as loving this man.

As though he was handling priceless porcelain, Georg gathered her into his arms and lowered her into the tub, the heat of the water an instant balm for her body and soul. She expected that he would leave her to her own company then, but instead he sank down on to his haunches and began rolling his sleeves.

"What are you doing?" She breathed, unable to take her eyes off him.

"I'm looking after you," he whispered, taking a flannel and beginning to bathe her with such care and devotion that her throat entirely constricted. No one had ever treated her so gently, so lovingly before. And all the while she was tearing his heart out.

"But why?" She rasped, entirely convinced that she wasn't worthy of his affections. But he only frowned slightly at the question, as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because I love you."

His kindness so stunned her, so floored her, that she could do little else than stare at him, her heart flooding with a sudden and intense longing. She'd always known that beneath his stoic exterior hid a man who harboured fierce and passionate emotion, visible only to those he chose to reveal it to. But never had she anticipated just how wonderful it would feel to be loved by him, protected by him, cherished by him. This man - this _brave, stoic, passionate_ , _broken_ man crouched before her, this man who had lost so much, this man who had shown her his heart, this man who had demanded nothing from her in return - this man was being so wonderful to her simply because he _loved_ her. And the realisation was so moving, so overwhelming, that suddenly she couldn't bear another second without being in his arms.

"Make love to me," she blurted before she could stop herself, the words coming out with such conviction that she hardly recognised her own voice. Instantly his hand stilled in the water, his wide eyes boring into her face in utter astonishment. When he'd asked her to spend the rest of the night with him he'd been content with the idea of simply holding her, cradling her, talking to her the way they used to. Not once did he assume she would want to lie with him again, not after the things she'd said in the lounge - and he'd certainly had no intention of demanding it from her. But despite his trepidation, there was no mistaking the certainty in her eyes, nor the need he saw burning in them.

"Maria.. are you sure?" He rasped - but she said nothing, instead reaching for his hand in the water, dragging it boldly up her slick body and placing it frankly on her breast, her eyes never leaving his face. Her nipple was taught and wet beneath his palm, and his eyes fluttered closed on a shudder that wracked through his body. When she whimpered under his forbidden touch, his blood surged hotly in his veins and he felt the last of his resolve crumble.

"Just once more," he croaked hurriedly, plunging his arms into the bubbles and lifting her out of the tub, heedless of the water soaking through his shirt. In a few easy strides he'd crossed the bedroom and laid her on the bed, his mouth finding hers effortlessly with long, drugging kisses that set her body aflame. His newly sodden shirt clung to the planes of his chest and the sight was doing strange things to Maria's body as she watched him strip himself out of it.

Her heart in her mouth, she let her mutinous gaze travel down his body - the bands of muscle on his chest, the smattering of dark hair that threaded down his stomach and disappeared into his waistband - coming to rest on the unmistakable evidence of his thoughts straining hard against the black material of his trousers. In the frantic blur of their previous encounter she hadn't had the chance to truly study him - and now that she did, she could hardly breathe.

Never taking his eyes off her, he made short work of the button at his waist, and she watched, mesmerised, the only sound her ragged breathing and the metallic scrape of his zip as he slowly dragged it downwards. The material eventually hung open at his hips and he stood momentarily still, watching her closely, as though giving her a moment to reconsider. The look in his eyes turned her blood hot and when she made no protest, his long fingers slipped into the edge of his waistband until - with a sharp intake of breath and a shift of fabric - he pushed the garments from his hips and freed himself for her hungry gaze.

Now that she was seeing him - _really_ seeing him - in all his masculine severity, she couldn't quite believe that something so imposing could possibly have felt so wonderful inside her. Soft yet hard, enticing yet menacing, pure and yet sinful, straining towards the path of hair on his stomach in such a blatant display of arousal that a newly familiar ache began pounding in her pelvis.

"We're going to take our time," he rasped, his eyes black with desire, "I want to remember every inch of you - the way you taste, the way you cry out my name, the way your legs feel wrapped around me..."

His words were driving her to the brink of insanity and a fire raged in her stomach as she watched him crawl up the end of the bed, pressing languid kisses to her ankles, her calves, her knees, her thighs - sending her breathing ragged. It wasn't until he nudged her long legs over his shoulders that she realised where his kisses were leading and she bit down on her fist to stifle a cry when she felt the unbearable wet heat of his tongue sliding along the place where she burned most for him. She heard his deep moan of appreciation, felt the vibration of his hum all the way inside her, turning her blood to liquid fire.

"Oh God," he shuddered, his voice muffled against her, "I've wanted to do this for _so long_. To taste you right here." And just when she thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, he blazed a fiery trail upwards until his open mouth massaged a tender place made of pure molten. His name tore from her lips instantly and she anchored her fingers in his hair, the firm but gentle tongue making her writhe in desperation, all thoughts of their sins momentarily forgotten.

His ministrations began gently, languidly, lovingly, but soon became more insistent and, instead of shrinking away from the blinding intensity, she found that she was opening herself to his beautiful mouth, frantic for more of him. He'd evidently meant what he'd said when he promised to take his time, for he was prolonging her pleasure to the point of torment.

"Georg, _please_!" she mewled in desperation, and he immediately showed her mercy, hurriedly moving up her body and sidling between her thighs, capturing her mouth with swollen lips. Within seconds she was writhing beneath him, trembling from the force of her need — and with a low groan he finally sank into the depths of her body, gathering her to him and holding her as close as space and time would allow.

She could see it once again, the raw turmoil playing out across his face as he lay himself bare to her, losing himself in her body and revelling in such overwhelming intimacy with another human being. And as she arched into his movements, she could tell that he was holding back, that he was attempting to make their intimacy last lest it be the final time they ever made love. But the more fervently she responded to his thrusts and the more she cried out her pleasure, the more his iron control seemed to slip - and before long his languid movements gave way to a primal urgency that had him driving all of his need relentlessly into the place where their bodies were joined.

It was frantic and chaotic and entirely intoxicating, his eyes burning into hers with such raw passion that she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Within minutes she found her wrists were pinned to the sheets under his strong hands and she was welcoming his frantic urgency as he lost himself to her entirely. Nothing else seemed to exist then, apart from the desperate movement of their bodies as they worked in harmony to find relief. And it could have been mere seconds or long hours later when she finally felt him stiffen between her thighs, the muscles of his torso pulled taught across his chest as he threw his head back and cried out her name in ecstasy, the strangled plea sending her soaring into the heights of rapture on a wave of sensation right there with him.

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know – they're a pair of sinners but I promise it's all going somewhere! And a little more M never hurt anybody!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: It's been amazing reading all your thoughts on the path I've chosen for this story. Please keep them coming! Just a note, I have no plans to include the Anschluss in this story but who knows, I might change my mind. Anyway, enjoy.**

* * *

Just as the first rays of the morning's sun began to bathe the hotel room in dawn's honeyed glow, Georg made love to her again. She awoke cocooned in his arms, his warm torso spooned against the length of her back, his gentle heartbeat drumming against her skin - and within minutes he was inside her, pressing unhurried kisses to the crook of her neck. In no obvious rush, he brought her to the heights of rapture through languid, lingering nudges that turned her insides to lava, and for a few wonderful moments Maria almost felt protected from the rest of reality.

Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, he stroking his fingers along her jaw, and she nestled into the crook of his shoulder, the atmosphere thick with words left unsaid. As much as she normally greeted each morning with an exuberant zest for life, today Maria rather wished she had the power to force the sun back behind the horizon. For soon enough, their perfect evening would come to an end and they would be forced to face the music.

The magnitude of their elicit liaison had since sunk in, the shock having eased a little throughout the night - and in its place had come a melancholic acceptance, an unspoken understanding that they would soon have to part ways. He had tried again during the night to convince her otherwise, to make her see that they could somehow find a way - but she had silenced him with gentle kisses, wordlessly asking him not to dwell on such things during their last precious hours together.

It had worked, to an extent - but now that morning had come, she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to ask her something, a question he was clearly too afraid to hear the answer to.

"Go ahead," she whispered, tracing the worry lines on his brow with her fingertips, "ask me..."

"Do you regret it?" He winced, capturing her hand with his and pressing a kiss to her palm. The shake of her head was barely perceptible, but it was enough to make his shoulders sag with relief as he let out the breath he'd been holding.

"I know what we've done is wicked-" she began.

"It's not wicked Maria!" He stiffened in frustration, "Not with the way I feel about y-"

"Shhh, Georg!" she soothed, "Just let me finish."

Reluctantly he settled back against the pillows, a slight frown darkening his brow - but he remained silent.

"What we've done _is_ wrong," Maria continued, holding up a hand when he tried to protest further, "but I can't bring myself to regret it. It's the circumstances I regret... the decisions we made..." she trailed off wistfully, before murmuring to herself, "I regret ever leaving in the first place."

"Why did you?" He asked gently, not for the first time, "was it because you were frightened.. of what was happening between us?"

She nodded, "I knew _something_ was happening but I didn't understand it.. not really," she confessed, "It was only when the baroness-"

Suddenly she froze, her cheeks colouring and her gaze shifting away from him in panic. But the damage was already done, for Georg immediately sat bolt upright, his eyes black with an anger she recognised all too well as belonging to her former employer, "Maria... " he pressed, his voice a commanding murmur, "it was only when the baroness _what_?"

"She was only trying to help.." Maria insisted, but Georg was having none of it.

"Help _herself_ , I would imagine," he snarled bitterly, "Maria, please.. you need to tell me. What did Elsa do?"

Sighing, Maria sat up in bed reluctantly, knowing her captain would be too stubborn to relent and that she would have to offer a full explanation. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her gaze to the duvet covers and began to recall one of the most anguished evenings of her life.

"The night of the party, the baroness offered to help me find something suitable to wear," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I was still flustered from our dance and... well, she helped me shed light on exactly what it was I was feeling. Worse still, she revealed how obvious I'd been in my affections towards you, obvious to everybody but myself. 'There's nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him'," she quoted sadly, shaking her head as Georg's eyes darkened with silent rage.

"She also said that you believed yourself to be in love with me too, but that you would get over it soon enough. I was mortified that I'd been so transparent with my feelings, and terrified that I was sabotaging your chances for a new family," she took a shuddering breath, twisting her hands vulnerably in her lap, "I was meant to be there on _God's_ errand. I couldn't face you again Georg... and so I fled."

He said nothing for a long time, his face a grave mask as he let her words sink in - and she grew more agitated with every second of silence that passed. Was he angry with her, she wondered. Was he resentful of her spinelessness?

"It was cowardly of me," she whispered with shame, unable to bear his despondence, "forgive me."

"Oh darling, there's nothing to forgive!" he proclaimed, pulling her into his arms and pressing a firm kiss to her forehead, attempting to calm his own flaring rage, "I should've come after you," he growled, "I should've seen through Elsa's petty manipulations, I-"

"She was trying to help me!" Maria implored, "Help _us_. Everything she said was true."

But Georg was convinced otherwise, "You always see the best in people," he smiled ruefully, cupping her silken cheek, "It might've been true that we were in love Maria but she lied when she convinced you that I would get over it. Her intentions were self-serving - she could see that I was falling in love with you and she wanted you out of the way," he shook his head resentfully, "And to think, I felt guilty for neglecting her," his scoff was bitter, "I convinced myself that you wanted to serve God and that Elsa deserved better from me. My proposal of marriage was based on a lie and I was too stubborn to explore the truth. It should be _me_ asking for forgiveness."

"It seems there are things we _both_ regret.." Maria smiled sadly.

"But not this," he gestured between them, before kissing her in a way that almost made her change her mind, "never this."

Some time later, not long before the rest of the hotel would be waking, they reluctantly slipped from bed, pulling on their clothes in melancholic silence - and Maria felt her heart breaking with every minute that passed. Leaving him once had been hard enough. To do it again - knowing how they felt about one another - would surely be too difficult to contemplate. But her feelings were not the only ones she needed to consider...

"It's not too late you know.. " Georg beseeched, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed and buttoning his shirt with impatient fingers, "my marriage is over whether you leave for England or not. It was over long before you came back into my life."

Taking pity on his buttons as he wrenched them into place, she batted his hands out of the way and resumed the task herself, "Please Georg.. " she whispered, concentrating on his shirt rather than the sadness in his eyes, "don't make this harder than it already is."

"But it doesn't have to be this way," he stilled her hands with his own against his chest and brought her fingers up to his lips, pressing kisses to each of them in turn.

"I already told you," she sighed in frustration, "I have a life back in England. I made a promise to..." she trailed off before mentioning Alfred again, knowing deep down that it was guilt that was driving her decision, "And have you even stopped to consider what the end of your marriage will mean for your reputation? What do you think people will say when they discover you left your wife to pursue a courtship with your former governess?" She shook her head in defeat, "People will talk."

"I don't give a damn about what people think of me!" Georg snarled, his face flashing with anger.

"And what about the children?" Maria retorted, "Do you care about what people think of _them_? The impact this will have on _them_? They'll be subjected to people's scorn just as much as you will..."

He said nothing then, though his scowl remained - and she took the opportunity to run her lips over the lines creasing his forehead.

"Please.. " she whispered, "we have precious few minutes left together. I don't want to spend them arguing."

His heart heavy with sadness, Georg could do little else than wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck. She held him in her embrace for long minutes, the only sound their whispered professions of love as they cradled one another - until eventually the time came for her to go back to her own room. She attempted unsuccessfully to extricate herself from his arms, tears welling in her eyes when he tried to hold on to her - "Georg.. _please_ ," she choked desperately, until eventually he let her go, his face a picture of despair.

"Not one day will go by without me thinking of you..." he told her just as she was leaving, "I'll be waiting.. hoping.. " - and somehow she managed to get a metre or so down the corridor before she let out a broken sob, clutching at her stomach and steadying herself with a palm against the wall. Taking deep, calming breaths she hurried on in her journey for fear that he might follow her - because she knew she wouldn't have the strength to resist him if he did. Breaking into a desperate run, she rounded a corner, only to rush headlong into a solid masculine form.

"Woahh, slow down my dear!"

Much to Maria's horror, she looked up to find Herr Detweiler staring right back at her, appraising her with a look of concern laced with mild amusement, "are you alright? You're shaking like a leaf!"

When she said nothing, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes narrowed further.

"Fraulein?"

"You're.. you're supposed to be at the Bristol," she rasped, stunned and dismayed at having been caught as she tried to gather her composure.

"Don't I know it!" The impresario replied bitterly, "I ought to be tucked up in my plush four poster bed still - but Georg insisted last night that I give him a lift home at the crack of dawn. For some reason he's in rather a hurry to leave," he smirked knowingly, his eyes sparkling.

"I... I need to finish freshening up for breakfast," Maria stammered in an attempt to escape, hurrying past him before he saw the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Uh.. _Fraulein_?" Max called after her - and Maria held her breath, her heart in her throat as she turned to face him.

"Last night's dinner dress might be a little _too_ formal for breakfast.." the impresario teased, gesturing to her outfit and watching the colour suddenly flooding into her cheeks.

"I..." she choked, trembling like a gazelle.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Max frowned slightly in concern, taking a step towards her - but before he could offer to walk her back to her room, she muttered something in the affirmative and fled from his sight. It didn't take a genius to guess at what the girl might've been up to - Max had experienced enough of his own hotel rendezvous in the past to recognise the telltale signs of a secret liaison. What left him feeling uneasy however, was the fact that he couldn't quite be sure of _which_ lucky gentleman she had been calling upon.

Surely Georg wouldn't... but then, the longing in his best friend's eyes the previous night had been unmistakeable. It was as if they'd all been transported back in time to the evening that Georg had sung Edelwiess, the lethal attraction between the master of the house and his governess too palpable to ignore. Would Georg have been strong enough to resist if the girl had gone to him last night, Max wondered. Would the girl have dared to go to him in the first place?

Surely not, surely it was the lieutenant she had been bold enough to pay a visit. And yet, Max couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that there was more to his run-in with the Fraulein than first met the eye.

* * *

Georg knew nothing of the world for a long time, sitting on the edge of the bed where he'd made love to Maria not too long ago, staring absently at the door through which she'd left. He felt empty, broken, numb. After everything they'd shared in the whirlwind of the last twelve hours, he really thought he'd be able to convince her to stay. To give up her future for an uncertain one with him. But he had expected too much, demanded too much, he realised. Why in God's name would she sacrifice a life with a man her age, a man who treated her the way she deserved, for a life with _him_ \- a retired naval captain fifteen years her senior with seven children and a whole lifetime of baggage.

If there was one silver lining to the dark cloud he found himself under though, it was the knowledge that lieutenant Norden would at least treat Maria right. He would be good to her, Georg knew - he would cherish her in a way that would make her feel loved and wanted. Time, and the affections of another, would eventually put an end to Maria's suffering - while Georg's own broken heart would travel with her to England, leaving a shell of a man behind. But he would immerse himself in the love of his children, he decided - he would not fall into despair and lock himself away from them the same way he had done all those years ago. He was better than that now - Maria had made him a better man.

Suddenly, and quite without warning, a light knock at the door pulled him from his miserable reverie - and instantly his heart began to gallop on an off-beat in his chest. Who could possibly be calling for him at this early hour, unless it was Maria coming back to tell him she'd changed her mind? His heart swelling with fresh hope, he launched from the bed and wrenched the door open, ready to take her into his arms when-

"Morning Georg," Max trilled, leaning casually against the door jamb and scrutinising his friend's dishevelled appearance with a raised eyebrow. Immediately Georg's stomach plummeted into his shoes.

"Max... it's you," he muttered in disappointment, battling with his tattered nerves and trying to catch his breath.

"Of course it's me, just who else would you be expecting?" The impresario's eyes narrowed.

"No one.. no one," Georg stammered, running a hand over his tired face, "I er... it's just terribly early, that's all."

"I'm well aware of how terribly _early_ it is Georg, but it was you who insisted - by rather aggressive means, I might add - that I drive you back to the villa at sunrise, remember?" Max retorted sardonically, "and guess what? It's sunrise."

"Alright alright, I'm coming," Georg sighed, gathering his sparse belongings and sending one last wistful glance around the room that would forever hold some of his most cherished memories.

* * *

It was a short time later when Maria left her hotel room to go down to breakfast, only to discover that her legs were carrying her in completely the opposite direction. The direction of Georg's bedroom, no less. She had no idea what was possessing her to go back to him - after all, she'd already made her decision, a decision that would break both of their hearts. But she couldn't bear the thought of leaving things the way she had. The despair in his eyes was still burned into her memory and all she wanted was to run back into his arms and tell him that everything would be alright... somehow.

All but an hour ago, her decision to leave for England had made sense in her head - it was the path she'd chosen, the path that led her away from betrayal and sin, the path that spared Alfred's heart, the path that protected Georg's reputation and those of his children. But now, now that she was without him, feeling his absence like a knife to the chest, panic had begun to set in and all her carefully constructed arguments suddenly seemed meaningless. She had no clue what she would say to him - all she knew was that she needed to _see_ him. She would worry about the consequences later.

Turning onto the corridor in which she'd banged into Herr Detweiler, she suddenly broke into a run - driven by a desperate need and a rising anxiety that perhaps she had dreamt the entire thing, that he would be a stranger to her once again. But when she finally reached his door and flung herself through it, it was to discover that the room was bare, and that her captain was nowhere to be seen.

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 **A/N: as always your thoughts are the precious gift in my pocket!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: because despite it all, Elsa deserves happiness too...**

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Elsa Shraeder was a woman who notoriously valued her beauty sleep. Never one to rise with the sun, she preferred to doze until long after breakfast - much to her husband's chagrin. With all the military precision that a life in the navy had ingrained in him, Georg would always rise at the crack of dawn and disturb her precious rest. On _this_ particular morning however, it was not Elsa's husband, but her lover who lay beside her - a man who, like her, appreciated the many benefits of a morning spent in bed.

She'd met Diedrich Helstrom at a Viennese ball a month or two before her second wedding, though of course the affair hadn't started until some time after that. He hadn't been amongst the aristocracy at the ball but had instead formed part of the orchestra that'd been playing that night. He was a musician, a fine musician - well respected in his field, though from a more humble background than Elsa was normally accustomed to in her glittering circle of friends. It was perhaps for that reason that she'd been shocked by just how much the man had intrigued her upon their first introduction.

Like every other man she'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, he was charming, witty, graceful - but _un_ like the rest, he came with a fiendish playfulness that she begrudgingly admitted reminded her a little of a certain Max Detweiler. Perhaps it was a mischief that belonged only to those who lived among high society while never quite being part of it. Either way, Elsa had been scandalised by his unabashed frankness at first, and she had told him as much, declaring that he was exhibiting a considerable lack of decorum. But he had merely chuckled, handing her a champagne flute, before saying: " _Works of art make rules; rules do not make works of art_."

"Claude Debussy!" she'd named the quoted composer instantly, impressed not only by his knowledge but by his sophisticated response where other men would simply have apologised awkwardly and sauntered away.

"Yes, a favourite of yours?" He'd asked, and while she didn't much care for the finer points of musical history, she'd nodded - for Debussy was indeed a favourite. From there they had got to talking, before she'd eventually bid him farewell and rejoined the rest of the ladies in attendance.

She didn't see or think about Diedrich again until after she was married, during her first trip back to Vienna as Baroness Von Trapp. They'd bumped into each other for a second time during a luncheon, since he happened to be friends with another gentleman in attendance - and again they'd got to talking. It wasn't until her fourth or fifth trip to the city however, that she realised just how much she hoped to bump into Diedrich whenever she was in Vienna - and the implications had rather shaken her.

They ran in very much the same circles and sure enough their paths had continued to cross, sometimes with Georg in attendance, other times not. Inevitably she and Diedrich had grown familiar with one another, an easy friendship blossoming - but Elsa had continued to ignore the obvious signs that something more significant was perhaps developing between them under the surface. She was not a naive woman - she'd recognised the way that Diedrich had begun to look at her. It was a look that set her body aflame in ways she hadn't felt since she was a virgin bride, a look that _Georg_ had once bestowed upon her - before the arrival and subsequent departure of a certain young governess...

It had taken Elsa a good few months of being baroness Von Trapp to realise that winning her husband's hand in marriage did not mean that she'd won his heart. While she'd succeeded in eliminating her one true threat the night that Fraulein Maria had fled the villa, it had soon become apparent that the girl had taken Georg's heart with her. As it turned out, the husband Elsa had hoped for in Georg Von Trapp had never existed. The man she'd thought she loved was gone. And ridding the villa of fraulein Maria had done nothing to bring him back to her.

She knew now that she'd made a terrible mistake in marrying Georg, and an even greater mistake in separating him from the girl he'd fallen in love with. A year ago she would've done anything to win his affections but she had soon come to realise that it was impossible to truly love a man when his heart belonged to another. Rather than solving the problem, marriage had torn them further apart - and Elsa had grown lonelier with every week that had passed. That was, until a night at the Viennese opera changed her life forever.

It had been a cold night, she remembered, and Diedrich had been playing in the opera's accompanying orchestra. Though the sopranos on stage had been quite magnificent, it was _he_ who'd held her full attention for the entire evening. And it wasn't until she'd found herself alone with him in her villa after the performance that she'd realised the full extent of their forbidden desire for one another.

They'd been talking, laughing, flirting over digestifs in her drawing room, all the while convincing themselves there was nothing untoward going on between them. That was, until the laughter had died, and Diedrich had stared at her with such adoration that she'd felt her lungs entirely constrict, the room pulsating with a new and dangerous charge.

"Elsa.." he'd rasped, recognising the desire in her own eyes and deciding to take a leap of faith, "I know I ought not to... but I have to confess, for I fear I might go mad. I need you _desperately_.."

Trying to make light of the situation despite the uncontrollable pounding of her heart, Elsa had given a light titter of laughter and smacked him playfully on the arm, "you mean you need my _money_ desperately!" She'd teased - a running joke between them that poked fun at his humble background. But there had been no laughter in his face as he'd moved gradually closer.

"No.." he'd whispered, running a hand down her cheek, " _Just_ you. Only you."

"Don't," she'd begged suddenly, her anguish evident, "Don't say another word, please."

And he hadn't. Instead, he'd taken her face in his hands and kissed her. That night, he'd made her come alive in ways she'd never experienced before. She'd felt wanted, adored and cherished by someone who needed her desperately. No one had ever truly needed her in her whole life. And it was perhaps for that reason that she found herself falling accidentally and irrevocably in love with Diedrich Helstrom while married to another.

At times she felt guilty for her sins, knowing that if it wasn't for her own misjudged deception then Georg might have found happiness elsewhere all those months ago, and she and Diedrich perhaps would've met under better circumstances - free to court one another properly, openly.

But retrospect was a wonderful thing...

"Darling..." Diedrich stirred beside her, reaching sleepily for her waist and pulling her to him, nuzzling groggily into her neck, "please tell me I'm not the only one suffering after that _exquisite_ second bottle.."

Immediately she smiled, feeling her mood lighten at his touch.

"A lady never overindulges, Diedrich darling," she simpered teasingly, "you ought to know that by now."

"A lady indeed!" he retorted, his tone laced with amusement, "too bad I know better!"

Pretending to be scandalised she smacked him playfully from over her shoulder, "you are _outrageous_!"

"Not at all," he chuckled, turning her round for a kiss, "I'm a very charming maverick."

When their laughter ebbed away, his face turned grave and he stroked a hand down her cheek.

"Do you remember what you promised me last night?" He murmured, his eyes etched with apprehension.

"Of course I do..."

"And will you?" He asked, clearly afraid she'd changed her mind.

She sighed heavily and cupped his face. It would not be easy, she knew - but she'd put it off for long enough. For once, she needed to consider not only her own feelings but those of the people around her. Past mistakes had proven that to her in spades.

"Yes darling," she pledged, watching him close his eyes in relief, "I'll tell him everything when I get back to Aigen. I promise..."

* * *

Georg stared through the window of his study with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the children play in the afternoon sun with a heavy heart. Elsa would be back soon, and he knew the inevitable conversation would need to be had, that he would need to end his marriage by whatever means possible. Divorce was unconventional, almost unheard of in the highest circles of the aristocracy - those who were in unhappy marriages simply took lovers on the side and spent as much time apart as they could get away with. But Georg knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to live that way. One night spent with Maria without being able to call her his own was painful enough. A lifetime would surely destroy him.

Not that it mattered - for Maria belonged to someone else regardless of Georg's marital status. He had insisted that his marriage was already over and she had refused him anyway - driven, no doubt, by guilt towards Alfred and fear that she would tarnish the Von Trapp name if Georg were to love her openly. He suspected that, much like the circumstances of ten months ago, she did not deem herself worthy of his family's love. And it devastated him that he hadn't been able to convince her otherwise.

The fact still remained however, that he needed to tell Elsa the truth - that his heart belonged to another and that he couldn't remain married to someone while being in love with someone else. Even if he never saw Maria again, he was better off alone than with a woman who deserved better than his half-hearted affections. He'd toyed with the idea of confronting Elsa about her own affair but had decided that the indiscretion was irrelevant. Whether she chose to tell him herself would remain up to her - their marriage was over anyway.

The sound of the front door opening and his wife's voice instructing Franz to take her bags upstairs pulled him from his reverie, and he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to find courage. It was time - and mere minutes later, Elsa was knocking at his door, no doubt knowing that she would find him in his sanctuary.

"Georg.." she greeted a little stiffly once he'd given permission to enter.

"Elsa.." he replied tersely, crossing the room and giving her an obligatory kiss on the cheek, ignoring the obvious lack of affection in the gesture, "How was your trip?"

"Fine.. just fine, thank you," she patted her hair awkwardly while he poured himself a much needed whiskey, "And the Goldener?"

"Hmm? Yes, yes.. all splendid.."

An impenetrable silence followed, the air thick with a bizarre tension as Georg struggled to find the words, gulping on his drink to take the edge off. He knew he needed to confront the situation head on, that he ought to put an end to their awkward suffering sooner rather than later - but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Elsa beat him to it.

"Georg.. " she flustered, her face a sudden picture of discomfort, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you," she seemed uncharacteristically nervous, "Something I'm not particularly proud of-"

"Is this about your affair?" He heard himself ask, and he watched as the shock spread across her face, the blood draining from her cheeks. She recovered quickly however, with all the composure that a life in the aristocracy had taught her. Perhaps she could read in his eyes that he'd known all along.

"I.. I was going to say something _else_ actually," she replied a little breathlessly, her voice laced with a mournful acceptance, "but I suppose we can start with that.."

"I've known for a while Elsa," he sighed honestly, placing his drink on the nearby desk, "You've been unhappy - I'm sorry," he forced himself to look at her and hoped his eyes were kind, "We've _both_ been unhappy.."

Her gaze shifted to the floor under his scrutiny and she nodded regretfully in wordless agreement, a lump forming in her throat. He was right - they'd both been unhappy for far too long now.

"When did it start?" he pressed gently, knowing the answer hardly mattered anymore.

"A few months ago.." she whispered, her voice so unlike her own.

"Around about the same time we both realised our marriage was a mistake?"

Another wordless nod and Georg paused for a moment, allowing the revelation to sink in.

"And this gentleman of yours.. " he continued eventually, his voice soft, "does he make you happy? Does he treat you well?"

Again she nodded, a sad smile pulling at her lips in response to his compassion.

"Then that's all I need to know," he said, returning her woeful smile with one of his own, "Now," he gestured for her to take a seat, "what was it you were going to say before I interrupted?"

If she was startled by his lack of anger on the subject, she didn't show it. Instead she took a shuddering breath, settling into the closest chair, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, though she attempted to keep her tone light, "I was going to say, Georg darling, that there's something I've been meaning to tell you about.. about the _night of the party_.."

Instantly Georg knew what she was going to confess, and he had to admit that he was shocked at her decency - even if it was ten months too late.

"What of it?"

She hesitated for only a moment but it was enough for Georg to realise that it was guilt he could see playing out across her face. He was glad to know she had a conscience after all.

"It.. it was I who caused Fraulein Maria to flee to the abbey that night," Elsa revealed, staring into her lap, "I told her things to frighten her into leaving. I could see the way the two of you looked at each other and I feared that I would lose you. What I failed to realise-" she smiled sadly, "was that I already had."

He didn't speak for long moments, striding back to the window as he thought about the direction he wanted his future to take. It would be very easy to blame Elsa for everything that had come to pass, but he knew that he too had to take responsibility. No one had forced him onto the path he had chosen - he alone had decided to tread it. And it was hardly Elsa's fault that he'd ended up falling for another.

"Did you not stop to think about how your actions might be ruining everybody's future happiness?" He murmured, "including your own?"

"You loved her didn't you..." Elsa replied from somewhere behind him, her voice so quiet that Georg thought he might've imagined it. But there was no mistaking the melancholy in her tone - and he sighed, turning to face her with a mournful nod.

"I still do," he whispered.

"Even after all these months?" She asked, though the look in his eyes was answer enough.

"Always."

Neither of them said a word then, the room thick with the implications of their confessions, both of them lost to thoughts of what life could've been like had things worked out differently, had they both made the right choices.

"I'm sorry Georg, truly I am," Elsa broke the quietude with remorse, and he could tell that, for once, she meant every word.

"I'm sorry too," he muttered regretfully, turning back to the window.

"If I could, I'd go to the convent myself and -"

"She never joined the convent," Georg revealed, noting the brief surprise that flitted across Elsa's face in the reflection of the window pane.

"Oh?"

"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you either," he disclosed, taking a seat behind his desk and picking up his glass, swilling the amber contents absentmindedly, "A week or two ago I bumped into Maria in town," he confessed, "She left the abbey shortly after returning, you see. We got to talking and.. well-"

Immediately Elsa held up her hand to silence him, "I think I can guess at the rest," she smiled wistfully, knowing all too well how her own affair had started.

Grateful that she was sparing him the awkward explanation Georg nodded, a silent understanding somehow passing between them that their marriage was coming to its natural end, that they'd formed an eventual truce of some kind. They were both responsible in their own way - she for her manipulations and he for his cowardice.

"oh Georg," Elsa sighed heavily, moving to perch on the edge of his desk, shaking her head with rueful sadness, "what an awful mess we managed to make of things."

"We both did wrong," he muttered, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the world, "The question is, how do we fix it?"

Elsa pondered for a moment, her face suddenly looking wearier than Georg had ever seen it.

"Well," she breathed defeatedly, pulling herself from the desk and beginning to pace the length of the room, "it will be.. _frowned upon_ \- our separation. There's no doubt about that."

Georg grunted his agreement and watched her pace, caring very little for what others would have to say on the subject. He was about to tell her as much but she seemed too deep in thought to acknowledge him.

"But we can be.. _discreet_ about the situation," she muttered, as though to herself, and Georg's curiosity suddenly heightened. Just what exactly did she have up her sleeve?

"Divorce is out of the question, of course," she continued, "but perhaps-" she halted and turned to face him,"- an annulment?"

"An _annulment_?" He snorted, rolling his eyes, "on what grounds?"

Elsa's lips suddenly curved into a devilish smile then, her eyes sparkling, "On the grounds of defect of _willingness_ , darling.." she simpered, and he merely stared at her with eyes narrowed.

"It would require a teensy weensy loophole, I'm sure," she muttered conspiratorially once again, "but one I believe that I can negotiate with friends in high places."

Georg shook his head incredulously, an amused grin beginning to tug at his lips despite himself.

"A marriage deemed invalid on the basis of defected willingness.." he murmured, his eyes sparkling with humour.

"Indeed," Elsa smirked surreptitiously, the irony not lost on either of them, "seems rather _fitting_ , wouldn't you agree?"

Given that his proposal had been based on a lie he supposed the description _was_ fitting, in its own bizarrely humorous way. Hadn't Elsa used manipulation to indirectly bend his will, after all? Despite everything they'd both put each other through, he couldn't help but marvel at her willingness to take responsibility, as well as her intellect in finding a possible loophole in their situation. Using her many connections and her way with people as a means to an end was something Elsa no doubt excelled at - and for once, it would work in Georg's favour. Whether it held up in court was another matter entirely, but he had faith that when Elsa Shraeder put her mind to something, she would find a way.

"Consider it done, Georg darling."

 _Baroness Machiavelli indeed,_ he thought to himself with a knowing chuckle - but instead he said;

"Thank you, Elsa. Truly."

And he meant every word, grateful that she would do what was necessary and altogether relieved that she would find her own happiness elsewhere. What would become of his own heart however, he still didn't know.

"Make sure the children understand, won't you?"

He nodded, knowing it would be up to him to ensure the children didn't suffer the fallout for any indecencies the thick-headed adults in their lives had committed.

"Now," she tittered with false bravado, though some of her previous spirit had indeed returned, "if you'll forgive me, I'm going to go upstairs, collect my little bags and return to Vienna where I belong."

She smiled then, a warm, gentile smile full of compassion, a silent acknowledgment passing between them that they had finally forgiven one another, though wistful tears still laced her eyes.

"Auf Wiedersehen, darling."

Turning on her heels she sashayed out of the room, leaving him with a heavy heart for the way things had turned out. But it had been a necessary evil, a twist of fate that brought them both one step closer to achieving their own happiness.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Elsa."

* * *

 **A/N: I always felt a little sorry for Elsa in the film. Even though she manipulated Maria she did so out of desperation because she had to watch helplessly while her man fell in love with another. Normally in my stories I write her as being evil because it's easier to get rid of her and easier to side with G+M, but this time I wanted to keep things a little more complex. I think if Elsa had known Georg would never get over Maria, she perhaps would've accepted defeat the night of the party. Both G and E have done wrong in their marriage and they both had their reasons. Both are sorry and both forgive each other and are ready to move on. Sorry to the Elsa haters amongst us! Maybe now both G and E will find their happiness apart.**

 **Also I hope you don't think the way I've handled their break up is a cop out. Elsa would no doubt have friends in high places who could take care of their situation. And I wanted to show that she and Georg finally understand one another. Anyway, thoughts much appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: hope you're all still with me!**

* * *

With a lazy yawn and a strong cup of coffee that he'd obtained from one of Georg's maids, Max Detweiler made his way onto the villa's veranda and helped himself to an unsupervised strudel that he discovered resting on a plate atop the table. Biting into the treat with relish and gazing out onto the stillness of the lake, he remembered just how much he loved rich people and the way they lived. The Bristol was lovely but it lacked a certain personal touch - namely, a free wine cellar - and it was perhaps for that reason that the impresario had invited himself over to Aigen for a spot of brunch. That, and the fact that he was determined to find out exactly what might've taken place in the Goldener between master and governess two nights ago.

It had taken a Herculean effort for Max to hold his tongue during the particularly tense drive back from the Goldener the previous morning. Georg's mood had been positively thunderous and Max had been desperate to needle his sulking passenger for any hint of a secret liaison with his former governess. But even the impresario - who notoriously didn't know when to quit - had sensed that pushing his friend would result in a storm of epic proportions.

Georg's scowl had been enough to silence even the most outrageous of conversationalists. His arms had remained folded rigidly across his chest, his shoulders hunched with tension, and he'd continued to glare at the passing scenery as though he'd wanted to set the trees alight with his obsidian eyes alone. It hadn't been lost on the impresario that fraulein Maria's distress appeared to have coincided perfectly with Georg's surliness. But somehow he'd managed to keep his observations to himself. There would be a time and a place to confront his friend about what had potentially taken place at the Goldener, but the car journey back to Aigen had not been it. He would have to wait for the opportune moment..

"Helping yourself to my strudel Max!" Came a sudden disapproving voice from behind him, breaking him from his devilish thoughts, "must be unhappy!"

Georg stepped out onto the veranda, looking decidedly more chipper than he had done the previous morning, though his eyes were still shadowed with a hint of weariness, Max noticed.

"Where's Elsa?" The impresario asked, "She told me she'd be getting back sometime yesterday?"

In truth, Max was rather intrigued to see whether Georg's behaviour around his wife had changed at all since he'd last seen them together, and he was growing increasingly more impatient in his search for the next clue that might confirm his suspicions.

"She did come back, yes," Georg retorted allusively, sidling up to the balustrade and leaning his palms against it, entirely avoiding his friend's suspicious gaze and whistling a little too casually.

"Well is she still freshening up?" Max pushed restlessly, glancing towards the villa's second floor, eager to witness some sort of delicious tension.

But Georg only emitted a long and impatient sigh, rolling his eyes, "actually Max if you _must_ know, she's gone back to Vienna."

The impresario's eyes narrowed instantly, giving him a shrew-like appearance that would've seemed comical if it wasn't for his pestering nature, "so soon?" He couldn't mask his disappointment, "For how long?"

Georg cleared his throat in discomfort, knowing it would be impossible to avoid the question forever, "um.. indefinitely."

As expected the impresario's reaction was one of utter outrage.

" _What?!"_ He bellowed, his eyes as wide as saucers and his moustache practically quivering with incredulous disbelief.

"It's been a long time coming," Georg insisted, though his feeble explanation did nothing to erase the bizarre look of horror twisting the impresario's brow.

"Good God!" Max spluttered, his face suddenly turning white, "what did you _do_ Georg?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Georg defended, his pulse beginning to quicken in panic, "Elsa's _fine_!"

"I'm not talking about Elsa!" Max hissed with indignation, "just what in the hell did you do to the girl?!"

"What girl?!"

"Maria of course!" Max cried, throwing his hands in the air in frustration, "What. did. you. do!"

He punctuated each word with a sharp prod to Georg's chest with his index finger, until Georg batted the accusatory hand away with an offended scowl.

"How.. how _dare_ you!" he stammered, his scandalised voice positively dripping with the undertones of his guilt, "how dare you insinuate that I-"

"So you didn't do anything you should've have at the Goldener?" Max pressed, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

Immediately Georg felt his cheeks redden, the protest dying on his lips - and he could do very little to stop it as the expression on his face shifted from righteous anger, to sudden panic, to eventual guilt. When Max's scrutiny became too much, he closed his eyes in shame.

"Oh you _complete cretin_!" Max yelled as comprehension dawned, his hand flying to his forehead in horror, "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I _wasn't_ thinking!" Georg protested, his eyes flying open.

"Not with your _brain_ , at least!"

Instantly Georg felt rage bubble inside him, "Now just see here Max!" He bellowed, but the impresario didn't seem to notice the acid in his friend's tone, nor the silent threat in his eyes.

"Does the lieutenant know?" he babbled, not bothering to wait for an answer, "I'm surprised he hasn't beaten you to a pulp!"

"No he doesn't know but I hardly think-"

"Did you even stop to consider the _consequences_!" Max interrupted like a scolding mother hen, beginning to pace in agitation, tugging at his moustache in his excitable state.

"Yes, I've tried to make-"

"Is that why Elsa left?" Max hissed, pacing so fast Georg could hardly keep up, "How did she find out?"

"I told her, but-"

The impresario suddenly halted in his tracks with a bizarre strangled sound and whirled round to face his friend, staring at him with sheer incredulity, "Jesus Georg, you _told_ her?!" He choked, "I know we all once went by the saying 'a girl in every port' - but the last thing you do is go and _confess to it!"_

"Well I wasn't going to lie to her!"

"Oh how noble of you!" Max scoffed with a mocking curtsy, rolling his eyes and turning away in obvious disapproval.

"Well if you weren't so self absorbed -" Georg accused angrily, feeling the sting of his friend's judgement, "- you might've noticed that she's been off on her own jollies with some musician back in Vienna!"

The resulting silence was deafening as Max turned on the spot, his brow marred with confusion, until the words sunk eventually in.

"Oh..."

"Hmm!" Georg confirmed righteously, glad that the impresario at least had the good grace to sound remorseful for his previous outbursts.

"I suspected... " Max whispered, shaking his head, "but I didn't _know_. I'd always hoped I was mistaken," he took an urgent step closer, his face a picture of unwelcome pity, "Georg if I'd truly thought it was happening I would've come to you-"

"I know Max," Georg held up a hand to stop him, "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

A heavy silence shrouded them again as Max tried to get his head around everything that he'd just been told.

"So that's it then?" He eventually asked, hardly daring to believe his own words, "It's over?"

"I believe so, yes."

With a crestfallen sigh the impresario gazed longingly our onto the lake and muttered something that sounded very much like _"all that lovely money..."_ \- and Georg couldn't quite mask the small smile that tugged at his lips. Despite it all, Max really was a very charming sponge.

"And all this mess just for the sake of some meaningless flings?" Max interrogated over his shoulder, his surprise evident.

"They weren't meaningless.. " Georg reassured, coming to stand next to his friend and resting his elbows against the stone, following Max's eye line out to the lake, "Elsa is happy with her musician by the sounds of things. And I'm happy for her, despite it all. As for Maria, well..." he gave a helpless shrug, "I love her Max."

"Well.." the impresario blew out a long breath, before flashing him the hint of a wistful smile, "that's something at least."

Whether the quietude that followed meant that Max was reserving any further judgement, Georg wasn't sure - but his friend was clearly deep in thought, for his brow was furrowed and he was clasping his hands in front of him on the balustrade.

"I only have one question, Georg."

"Hmm?"

Their eyes met and Georg couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his oldest friend looking so troubled. It was rather unsettling to say the least, he was so used to that impish face exhibiting a whole lot of mischief and not much else.

"If you love her," Max began, "then why in blazes haven't you done anything about it? I saw her in town only this morning when I left the Bristol. She... she was with that poncy lieutenant still. Surely she should be back here with you, with the children..?"

Feeling his lungs constrict with the painful mental image of the _happy couple_ , Georg attempted to swallow past the painful lump that was forming in his throat. Would it ever get any easier, he wondered.

"I asked her to stay," he rasped, trying to keep his stoic mask in place, "I even told her I was leaving Elsa but.. but she's going back to England," he spat, his eyes darkening, "With _him."_

"Even after..?"

"Yes, even after." Georg confirmed sharply, leaving the _'we made love'_ unsaid.

"But why?"

"I don't know," he sighed heavily, "Guilt I would imagine.."

But Max was shaking his head vehemently, "I saw the way she was looking at you at the Goldener, Georg - _and_ the way she used to look at you last summer," he argued bluntly, "She returns your feelings, there's no doubt about that."

"She said she does," Georg shrugged defeatedly, "but now I'm not so sure."

"Well what kind of talk's that!" Max retorted, straightening up and squaring his shoulders, "you should fight for what you want!"

"She's made her choice, Max," Georg insisted stonily, "I told her I'll be waiting.. I can't force her."

The impresario opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue, but quickly thought better of it, instead letting his shoulders sag as he cursed under his breath.

"Well," he murmured eventually, turning back to lean against the balustrade again, "maybe it's for the best then, Georg," he placed a soothing hand on his friend's shoulder, his eyes kind, "Perhaps this will finally give you the means to move on."

"Hmm," Georg replied, lost in his own thoughts, lost to a world that was slowly disappearing before his very eyes, "Except -" he paused for a moment, his tired mind running over everything that had come to pass, everything he'd gained and then lost, everything he'd ever envisioned for himself and his family, everything he'd ever dreamed of for his future. And amidst the incessant white noise, a memory surfaced in his mind's eye - one so vivid that he felt like he was watching it play out on film in front of him.

It was his first memory of Maria, her clumsy yet graceful movements as she bowed low to an invisible partner in the shadows of his ballroom, her ethereal face a picture of mesmerised wonder, her guileless blue eyes wide and curious when they'd first landed on him. She'd been a gift from God, he knew that now. And suddenly he was hit with an epiphany so profound, a revelation so startling and yet so obvious, that he felt as though he was being wrenched out of deep water.

"I don't _want_ to move on.." he whispered, his own realisation hitting him with such force that for a second he couldn't breathe.

"What?" Max straightened beside him.

"I don't want to move on!" Georg repeated louder, grabbing his friend by the upper arms and shaking him in panic, "What the hell am I doing!" He cried, the startled impresario rattling around in his grip like a helpless puppet, "I can't just let her go I... I need to see her! I need to _stop her_!"

Without waiting for a reply he released his astonished companion and sprung into action, storming towards the house in a whirlwind of sudden determination. It took Max a few seconds of puzzlement to make sense of what was going on, but when he did his eyes widened in alarm and he bolted right after his seemingly possessed friend.

"Wait Georg, just slow down a minute-" he chuckled nervously, hurrying alongside the captain, "just what are you planning on doing here?"

But Georg wasn't listening, grabbing his coat and fedora from the coat stand by the front door and adorning them quick as a flash.

"Georg!" Max beseeched.

"Where are my blasted keys!" Georg growled, patting himself down in search of them.

"Georg!"

"I know they're here somewhere.."

"Georg for God's sake, just slow down!" Max insisted, as his companion rooted around in every pocket, "your blasted coat is on inside out for a start!"

Both men paused in their frenzy for a moment, peering down at the captain's ridiculous appearance, before Georg merely resumed his frantic struggle and hurriedly rectified the wardrobe malfunction, managing to find his car keys in the process.

"Ah ha!" He cried, holding the keys up in triumph before marching to the front door and wrenching it open.

"Georg, just wait a second-" Max scuffled after him, but his friend was already out the door.

"I can't believe I was going to give up..." he heard Georg mutter as gravel crunched under their rapid feet.

"Georg-"

"I won't let her go again.."

By now, Max had had quite enough.

"Georg, WAIT!"

His desperate bellow seemed to do the trick, for Georg halted in his tracks and turned to face the impresario, looking at him as though he'd sprouted a second head, "what _is_ the matter Max?" He asked impatiently.

Now that it was his chance to finally speak, Max suddenly found himself somewhat tongue-tied, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a goldfish. He couldn't bear the thought of crushing his friend's new-found hope but it was inevitable, given the news he would have to deliver.

"When I saw Maria and the lieutenant this morning they were on their way to the train station," he answered, his face a picture of regret, "They bid me farewell.. their bags were packed."

Immediately Georg's stomach plummeted into his shoes and his heart threatened to burst through his chest as it galloped against his ribs. He was frozen to the floor, unable to move, unable to think.

"That's impossible," he managed to rasp, his voice twisting in his throat, "they're not meant to leave for three more days. You must be mistaken-"

"I'm not mistaken, Georg," Max sighed, shaking his head ruefully, "I wish I was. Norden's been called back early on business. He told me himself. They're leaving."

Despair enveloped Georg once again, his chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

"Well why the hell didn't you tell me!" He bellowed, taking his anger out on the nearest available target.

"I thought you knew!" Max defended, "You said yourself she was returning to England!"

"Well when did you see them?!" Georg demanded, glancing frantically at his wristwatch.

"About an hour ago," Max replied, his eyes narrowing, "why, what are you-"

But Georg was already sprinting to his convertible, gravel flying out from under his feet as he skidded to a stop at the driver's door and hurled himself over it into the seat, throwing the car into gear.

"Oh Christ!" Max exclaimed, the engine barely turning over before he was running after his friend and scrambling into the passenger side.

"Are you really going to do this?" He asked breathlessly, scrabbling for his seatbelt as Georg hit the gas with abandon.

"Yes." Georg's stony eyes remained fixed on the road, his knuckles bleaching white where he gripped the steering wheel.

"Just barge onto the platform and steal the damsel from her unsuspecting captor?" Max gawped incredulously as the car darted at lightning speed through the country lanes.

"Yes."

"Don't you think it's all a bit _much,_ for God's sake?"

"Yes."

"Oh.." Max paused, taken aback by the lack of rebuff, "But we're going anyway?"

"Yes."

"Well that's just _fantastic.."_ the impresario huffed sarcastically, sinking back against the plush leather seat with his arms folded in defeat, "I should've just stayed in Vienna!"

* * *

When they finally reached Salzburg Hauptbahnhof it was to find that the station were saturated with people, much to Georg's immense frustration. After barging his way to the front of the queue and demanding to know where the next train to France was departing from, he and Max bolted in the direction of the platform, only to be confronted with a fresh mass of passengers overflowing from the vessel. Chests heaving, they frantically scanned their surroundings for any sign of Maria or the lieutenant but to not avail.

"I don't see her, Georg," Max insisted impatiently - but like a compass pointing north Georg's eyes eventually settled upon a halo of golden hair amidst the sea of otherwise dull colours. She was facing away from him, preparing to board the train - and without so much as a single coherent thought, Georg began shoving through the crowd with reckless abandon, his heart in his mouth.

By the time he reached her she'd already spotted him, her attention no doubt caught by the disgruntled hubbub of the parting crowd - and her eyes were blown wide, her mouth hanging agape in utter bewilderment.

"Georg?" She breathed, as though he was a hallucination, "What are you-"

"Maria.. " he rasped frantically, taking her hand in both of his and grasping it to his chest as though she were made of solid gold, "I am _so_ in love with you, please... " his voice cracked from the strain as he fought to catch his breath, "please, don't leave.. don't do this."

Her face had fallen with distress as he'd spoken the words, tears pooling behind her eyes while she stood, dumbstruck, her head shaking in mindless denial.

"Maria, it's not too late for us," he implored, desperately trying to get through to her despite her obvious fear, "just don't get on this train, just-"

"Captain Von Trapp?"

Georg spun on the spot to find a very confused lieutenant Norden frowning at the scene before him with a suitcase in one hand and two tickets clasped in the other, his eyes shifting from Maria to Georg, to their entwined hands at Georg's chest. It must've looked very odd to the young man, Georg admitted - and immediately he released Maria's trembling fingers as if he'd been burned.

"What's going on here?" The Lieutenant scowled suspiciously, before he turned on the captain, his eyes darkening with anger, "did that Detweiler scoundrel send you?" but Georg didn't have the time nor the patience to explain it to the boy. The train would be leaving at any minute and he had so much more left to say.

Entirely ignoring the lieutenant's question and turning back to Maria, Georg desperately tried to get through to her with the tenderness in his eyes alone.

"Come on Maria, let's stop this madness, alright?" He whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her again, "Let's go home.."

"Maria," Norden huffed impatiently, unable to hear quite what was going on, but disgruntled nonetheless, "I don't know what this is about but we _really_ ought to find our seats.."

"Just _one minute_!" Georg snarled over his shoulder, before meeting Maria's eyes again, "come on," he held out his hand to her as though coaxing a terrified child, "it's okay darling..."

She hesitated for a moment, but then ever so slowly, she began to raise a trembling hand, reaching out for his - and his heart soared. But much to his horror, the sound of the conductor's whistle pierced through the air a second later and she startled like a lamb, as though waking from a dream - and suddenly she was snatching her hand back, shaking her head in panic as her eyes welled with tears.

"Maria _come on_!" Norden cried as he grabbed her suitcase for her and boarded the busy train, "it's about to leave!"

"I'm sorry, Georg," came her strangled whisper, still shaking her head as she backed away from him, "I can't do this now.. I'm so sorry."

"But.. Maria-"

"I'm sorry," she muttered over and over again, her face a picture of agony as she followed Alfred onto the train. Georg could do little else than stare after her in bewilderment, his eyes never leaving hers as the conductor ushered him out the way and slammed the train door shut between them. She was still gazing at him with tortured eyes through the glass, her face twisted with a shadow of grief that pierced right into his heart. Time seemed to stand still then, the earth shifting on its axis under his feet - until steam hissed from the chimneys, and the pistons groaned to life, the train pulling away and eventually rolling out of sight.

* * *

 **A/N: still enjoying? Thoughts always appreciated!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm not sure how happy I am with this, but I decided it's time to put you all out of your misery. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

It was with the deepest sympathy that Max watched his oldest friend playing with the children later that afternoon in the drawing room. To any other observer Georg might've seemed content, even joyful - what with the way he was engaging so heartily with his brood. But Max wasn't fooled. There was a shadow to his eyes, a shadow that Max had seen only once before. The very same shadow the impresario used to notice when he'd had to wrestle numerous bottles of liquor out of Georg's numbed fingers.

His friend was putting on a brave face for the children, there was no doubt about it. Every time his brood's attention shifted elsewhere for a few moments, the smile would fall from his lips and his face would darken with something Max didn't want to identify. And in truth, it scared him - the last time Georg had looked like that he'd fallen into a despair so deep it had taken a miracle to get him out of it.

The journey back from the train station had been even more painful than the infamous journey back from the Goldener. Without so much as a single word, Georg had thrust the keys in Max's direction, his hands clearly shaking too violently to grip the steering wheel, his face a canvas of disbelief. Obediently, Max had commandeered the vehicle, and in any other circumstances he would've been over the moon: Georg rarely let him touch the convertible, let alone drive it! But his friend's acquiescence in this case had only served to show how shell-shocked he really was by what had taken place on the platform.

Max couldn't quite believe it himself. The girl _loved_ Georg, he was sure of it. If their stolen looks and longing glances the previous summer hadn't been indication enough, her tormented blushes at the Goldener had confirmed it without question. That, and the raw turmoil that had churned in her eyes that very morning when Georg had gone after her. Max had been standing close by, with one eye fixed firmly on his friend and the other on an unsuspecting Norden who'd been collecting the tickets a few yards away. It'd felt as though he'd been watching a play, a helpless observer witnessing the tragedy as it had begun to unfold. The look in the Fraulein's eyes, the anguish in her voice had been unmistakable.

And yet, she'd gotten on the train anyway...

"Leisl," he whispered from his place in the doorway, and the girl looked up from her task with the little ones to find her uncle beckoning her over with a gentle jerk of his head, a silencing finger pressed to his lips. Frowning slightly she excused herself without drawing anyone's attention and made her way to the door with a weariness that Max didn't miss.

"What is it uncle Max?" She asked hesitantly as though she thought she was about to be roped into a conspiracy she'd rather avoid at all costs.

"Take the others for a little walk around the garden would you Liesl?" He asked softly, "I want to have a quick word with your father."

"Oh Uncle Max," Leisl sighed with a hint of amused exasperation that suddenly reminded him vividly of Agathe, "if it's about getting us to sing for you again, I'm afraid father just _isn't_ going to-"

He interrupted her with a hearty chuckle, patting her affectionately on the shoulder, "don't you worry sweetheart, I have no intention of flogging a dead horse, no matter how notoriously persistent I am! Especially not such an ill-tempered, _stubborn_ horse!"

It was at that particular moment that said horse's head snapped up from his place on the sofa, scowling at the impresario and the conspiratorial whispers taking place in the doorway.

"Max..." came his low warning, "just what are you up to?"

The impresario didn't answer but Georg watched, eyes narrowed, as Leisl crossed the room with a roll of her eyes and muttered something low to her brothers and sisters before the seven of them upped and scarpered in a flurry of thundering footsteps. Not for the first time Georg wondered, with a stab of irritation, just what kind of power Max had over his nieces and nephews to make them obey his every request.

"I was wondering how long it would be before you pulled something to get me alone for an interrogation," Georg gritted, hauling himself into a standing position and making his way stiffly to the window. Ignoring the barb, Max edged in the opposite direction from the caged lion towards the beloved liquor cabinet, pouring them both a stiff drink. Evidently, they were going to need it!

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he tried to find the words to begin what he wanted to say but he didn't even know where to start - so instead he busied himself with adding ice to their glasses while he considered what he'd been thinking about before he'd beckoned Leisl over.

As Georg's friend, he should've _done more._

An outside observer, he'd been all too aware that something had been developing between the master of the house and his children's governess ten months ago and yet he'd done nothing to stop the mess that had so rapidly ensued. As a close friend, he could've pushed Georg to confront his feelings, he could've spoken to him about his potentially unwise decision to marry Elsa. But instead he'd sat idly by, convincing himself not to meddle, sweeping the deteriorating circumstances under the rug on the premise that Georg would surely get over it and that he should therefore allow things to take their natural course. But the natural course had turned out to be a damaging one indeed.

Clearing his throat, Max approached his agitated companion and handed him one of the glasses, which Georg took begrudgingly.

"You look terrible," Max observed, attempting to sound sympathetic - but then he rather wished he could stuff the stupid words back in his mouth when Georg fired him a glare that could only be described as murderous.

"In the nicest possible sense of course!" He corrected himself feebly. Georg only rolled his eyes and knocked back the entire glass of whiskey, his jaw tensing as the liquid burned down his throat - and Max made a mental note to deny him a refill if he requested one.

"What do you want Max?" Georg sighed impatiently, continuing to stare blankly out the window.

The impresario paused for a long while, rocking back and forth on his heels and toying with his moustache before he finally spoke, "I have a theory..."

Georg's expression didn't change, "And what theory might that be?" He retorted icily, his tone making it all too clear that he couldn't care less.

"I believe Maria made the wrong choice," Max declared, but Georg only snorted.

"Thank you Max, but your flattery is wasted on me."

"I'm not trying to _flatter_ you," the impresario huffed, rather tempted to smack Georg upside the head for his sulking, "I'm trying to tell you that she's made a _mistake._ You know plenty about mistakes, don't you Georg? And much like you and your proposal to Elsa I believe Maria will reflect on her mistake and come to her senses. Only, she's far sharper than you are, and a damn sight braver too. It won't take her ten months and a broken marriage to realise her true path."

The only indication that Georg had even heard him was the slight flicker of his eyes and the rigid clenching in his jaw.

"When she knew she wasn't meant for the cloistered life, she took a blind leap and left the sisters, did she not?" Max continued, trying to get through to him, "The same will hold true with the lieutenant, you mark my words - she'll realise soon enough and she'll take another blind leap-"

"Regardless Max," Georg spat, his tone cutting as he continued to stare darkly through the window, "she's gone. None of it matters anymore."

"Courage.. fortitude, compassion - she possesses all these attributes and more in _spades_ Georg," Max forged on, despite the imminent storm darkening his friend's face.

"And what exactly is your _point_?" Georg snarled, his entire body rigid with silent anger.

"Don't give up on her," Max murmured simply. But it was clearly the wrong thing to say, for the caged lion suddenly attacked, his quiet reflection instantly replaced by a rampant anger that had him rounding on the impresario like a wild beast cornering a helpless gazelle.

"So what would you propose I do!" He bellowed, his eyes churning with a dangerous fire, "Jump on the back of a white horse and follow her all the way to England only to have her turn away from me again?!"

He threw his tumbler angrily into the empty fire place and watched with satisfaction as the impresario jumped in response to the violent sound of shattering glass. But despite the outburst, Max apparently remained unperturbed.

"What was the one thing you wished you'd done all those months ago!" he needled persistently, raising his voice in retaliation, "the _one thing_ you wished you'd done when she first returned to the abbey!"

"I called that blasted abbey countless times!" Georg shouted in defence, "I wasn't allowed to see nor speak to-"

"Georg," Max interrupted gravely, his voice softening with compassion, "just, answer the _question_."

His chest heaving, Georg didn't speak for long moments, his obsidian eyes locked with his friend's - until finally his shoulders sagged and his fists unclenched in defeat.

"I wish I'd written to her," he rasped quietly, "I wish I'd written all the things I hadn't been able to say out loud.."

Max shrugged modestly, "So write to her."

"And say what?" Georg scoffed at the suggestion, turning back to the window and resting his knuckles on the sill to prevent them from clenching again.

"Let her know that nothing's changed," Max encouraged, "that you'll still be waiting and that you forgive her."

"I don't even know where she lives..."

"The Reverend Mother might know of a forwarding address..." Max suggested hopefully, but Georg didn't respond, a heavy silence falling over the two of them instead. Watching his friend for long moments, the impresario could tell that despite his stubborn silence, Georg was brooding over the advice - which was all Max could really hope for under the circumstances. Maybe, by some miracle, he'd managed to get through to the man after all.

"Well," he murmured with finality, draining his glass and making his way towards the door, "just think about it, Georg. After all, what more have you got to lose? You gave up on her once. Don't make the same mistake again."

* * *

"Children?" Max frowned an hour or so later when he found them all enjoying the sun on the terrace, "where's your father? He's not in his study..."

"He had to go to town last minute," Friedrich piped up and the lines on Max's brow only deepened in confusion.

"Yes," Brigitta chimed in, "something about an address?" She shrugged, "he seemed in a bit of a hurry."

"He said he'd be back in time for dinner though," Kurt hastened to add, rubbing his grumbling stomach hopefully.

Max couldn't quite suppress the knowing grin that spread wide across his face then as realisation dawned. It seemed that by some miracle, even the most ill-tempered and stubborn of 'horses' could be persuaded after all.

* * *

Georg considered that he'd surely gone mad to be taking advice from the likes of Max Detweiler - and yet here he was, bolting down the country lanes in the direction of Nonnberg Abbey. The impresario's parting words had been ringing in his ears for the better part of two hours, to the point that he'd no longer been able ignore them.

" _Don't make the same mistake again."_

He'd made plenty of mistakes, of that he was most certain - but perhaps the biggest mistake of all had been to let Maria flee the previous summer without doing absolutely everything in his power to find out why she'd left. What he'd told Max before had been true - he _did_ regret not writing to her, he _did_ regret not going after her. He should've gone straight to the abbey and broken down the blasted doors. Instead he'd chosen to give up on her - to make his own assumptions about her departure rather than bothering to pursue the truth.

And he was in danger of doing the very same again now. She'd left with Norden, true enough - she'd boarded the train and headed to England despite his pleading. But just as Max had said, none of it meant that it was the _right_ choice, nor that it was the future Maria truly wanted for herself. If there was any possibility that she'd made a mistake, then she needed to know that he would be waiting, that he would understand. Hadn't he himself chosen the wrong person ten months ago and regretted it ever since?

The last time she'd fled, she'd been too afraid to come back to him. This time, he'd make sure she knew - he would only ever welcome her back with open arms and with love in his heart. For what sin was she guilty of that he himself hadn't committed first? Fear, denial, and guilt had led him down the wrong path once, and he could hardly blame her if she too had fallen victim to their powerful grip.

He would write to her, he'd decided. He would get a forwarding address from the Reverend Mother - explain the entire circumstances under oath if he had to! - and he'd write every single word that he should've written ten months ago. Everything that yet remained unsaid.

Parking the car a short distance from the abbey, he moved on quick feet in the late afternoon sun, trying to determine what in God's name he was going to say to the reverend mother when she would undoubtedly ask precisely _why_ he wanted a forwarding address for her ex postulant. Would he be better off lying, he wondered. Or perhaps honesty was the best policy in the house of G-

Suddenly Georg stopped dead in his tracks, confronted by a sight that tore the air from his lungs. He quite simply forgot how to breathe. He was rooted to the spot, his mind hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. Surely it was entirely impossible. Surely his eyes were deceiving him.

There - perched on the front step of the abbey and hugging her knees to her chest with all the fear of a lost child - was his former governess. His lover. His very _lifeblood_. She hadn't spotted him approaching, too busy staring at her hands as she twisted them in front of her knees - and he took the opportunity to study her, to calm his fast beating heart, to try and make sense of the startling fact that she was sat right in front of him instead of on a train to Paris.

When he finally found the courage to make himself known, he took a step closer, his whole body shaking.

"Hallo.." he cooed softly, utterly convinced she was a mere hallucination. But it seemed she was real after all, for she jumped instantly at the sound of his voice, launching to her feet from her perched position on the steps.

"I never thought I'd find you here.."

She stilled, her face contorted with anguish as she stared at him from her place on the step - he the undeserving mortal and she his goddess. The lowness of the sun meant that the abbey was cloaked in a golden hue and the glint across her hair was just enough to make her look like an angel - reminding him all too well of when he'd first spotted her in the square.

Her timid voice, rich with rising panic, broke through the silence, "I had nowhere else to go. How.. how did you know-"

"I didn't," he rasped, still unable to move, "I came here in the hopes of finding an address I could reach you at. In England. But you're not there," he pointed out stupidly, gesturing at her in disbelief, "you're here."

"Yes..." she whispered.

"Is.. is there any particular _reason_ you're here and not... not there?" He dared to ask, his heart beginning a steady gallop in his chest.

She said nothing, eyeing him wearily, poised like a gazelle as though ready to flee again. But she stood firm, much to his relief.

"I couldn't do it.." she finally murmured, so quietly that he took an involuntary step closer, "I got as far as the next stop before I realised.."

"Realised what?" He couldn't breathe.

She cast her eyes to the floor, "I can't be his while I'm in love with _you_.. " she bit back a sob, "I told him everything, Georg. _Everything._ I broke his heart."

It was true - she had completely torn Alfred Norden's heart out, a fate he had neither predicted nor deserved. As one might've expected, he had bombarded her with questions the minute the train had pulled out of the platform, growing quite impatient when she wouldn't immediately provide answers. She'd been in no fit state to speak, but Alfred had begun to rant rather angrily about Herr Detweiler - until Maria realised, with utter horror, that she had made a terrible mistake.

It had been at that precise moment, alone in their private carriage, that Maria had confessed the deepest secrets of her heart to Alfred, no longer able to keep the truth inside. His reaction had been frightening to say the least - he had flown into a fitful and insulting rage, revealing a side to him that she hadn't seen before and one that she hoped no one would ever see again. But she could hardly blame him for his aggressive reaction - for what she'd done had been unforgivable.

"I left him on the train.." she murmured, unable to lift her eyes from the ground.

Georg's stomach plummeted and his heart soared all at once. She'd done it, she'd left Norden - just as Max had predicted. Overcome with hope, he moved as if to close the gap between them but she took a step back, her hands held up in front of her to deter him, and he froze once again, his heart sinking.

"But neither can I be yours," she was shaking her head, tears pooling behind her eyes, "One night nearly tore me _apart_ , Georg. I..." her cheeks suddenly flushed pink, "I could be _with child_ , Alfred said.. I didn't even consider-"

"Is that why you came back?" Georg interrupted, the accusation coming out harsher than he'd intended, his stomach turning over, "an obligation to fulfil...?"

"No!" She cried, her voice shrill with a sudden flair of anger, "I already told you why I've come back! Because I don't love him!"

"You love me," it was a statement, not a question - and he watched as she nodded helplessly, the tears finally spilling over.

"But it doesn't change anything," she sobbed, "we can't be togeth-"

"Maria," he interrupted softly, silencing her, "Elsa has returned to Vienna permanently. I told her everything too. And she told me all about how she's found her own happiness. We are getting an annulment," he confessed gravely, "It's _over_."

Clearly the news was a shock to her, because her eyes blew wide and a hand flew to her hair, "are you _mad_?!" She cried incredulously, "you've lost your mind! I never thought you would actually.. I can't believe you-"

She continued to mutter to herself incessantly but this time round he didn't even hesitate - with an indignant roll of his eyes he closed the gap between them in four easy strides, taking her firmly in his arms and silencing her with a searing kiss right there on the abbey steps.

At first she stiffened with surprise but soon enough she was melting against him, kissing him back with equal fervour, her hands burying under his lapels and pulling him closer. Blood surged hotly through his veins and his heart swelled with pure unadulterated affection. She was here, in his arms, as real and as pure as the sun itself. He hardly dared to believe it.

When he finally gave her room to breathe, she was speechless, her lips a little swollen and her eyes still closed - as though she was savouring the contact she thought she'd never experience with him again.

"Look at me.." he whispered, and immediately she complied, her guileless eyes fluttering open and staring at him as though she was seeing him for the first time.

"Maria," he ghosted his fingertips down her satin cheek, "I've said it before and I'll say it again, since you've always been _so_ intent on defying me!"

She smiled sheepishly and he couldn't help but return it.

"I _don't want_ a mistress," he continued, "I want to court you openly when this blasted annulment is confirmed - properly, without shame. To love you, to cherish you and support you... to provide for you, to stay by your side through thick and thin, and yes to welcome more children with you. And _not_ because you might already be with child Maria, nor because of what we did at the Goldener - though I _did_ love every second of it-"

Her cheeks burned crimson then and she hit him playfully on the chest in protest, but he only chuckled devilishly and tightened his arms around her, "- but because I _love_ you, Maria. If you will only accept me and acknowledge that you are worthy - believe me when I say I yearn for nothing more."

If the look she'd given him before was one of incredulity, it was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now, her eyes shining bright with disbelief and wonder.

"But.. " she protested on a whisper.

"My _God_ , you're even more stubborn than I remembered!" he interrupted, with only a hint of a teasing lilt, "but _nothing_ , darling! I may have been wrong about many things over the years, but _this_ -" he gestured between them, "I have never been more certain about."

He watched her cautiously after laying his heart bare, witnessing the myriad of emotions playing out on her face. Shock, confusion, hope, curiosity, longing.. and for long painful seconds it seemed as though she was never going to acknowledge the words he'd said, but simply stare at him dumbstruck for all eternity, until he felt like shrinking away.

He felt his heart sink, wishing he could read her mind - but he was at a loss. If she doubted him - or worse still, if she doubted herself - there would be no hope for them.

But much to his relief and overwhelming joy, the turmoil in her face eventually gave way to an earnest and unrepressed adoration that made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years - and his heart kickstarted like a drum in his chest when she dared to take his face gently in her hands, pressing a beautiful kiss to his lips that spoke of the promise they were making to one another. And he realised then that no words needed to be said, for the devotion behind her caress told him all he needed to know.

Overcome with tenderness he pulled her firmly into his embrace, giving her everything he had in the way his mouth worked in harmony with hers, in the way he peppered frantic kisses across her face, behind her ear, to the skin of her throat - until the heat of her gentle pants swirled into the air around them and the blood roared in his ears.

When finally she pulled away breathlessly, allowing their thundering heartbeats a chance to calm, he saw her eyes dancing with a newfound triumph, a surety, a confidence that hadn't been there before, "you know.. " she laughed softly, still breathless, "It all started with that silly whistle!"

* * *

 **A/N: That's a wrap folks! I know some of you might have expected or hoped for some more angst and drama to play out in England but that was never my intention – the focus of this story was always meant to be them banging into one another and having to fight/accept their attraction and love for one another. Ultimately I wanted a dramatic/fiery hook up and a happily ever after! I might write an epilogue for this story if an idea springs to mind but I won't promise anything at this stage. I do hope you enjoyed this story and as always I'd love to know your final thoughts!**


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